Dark Lord Origins: Harry Potter and the Boy With Two Fathers
by Haitorei
Summary: Severus Snape sacrifices himself to save Lilly and her twin sons. But martyrdom doesn't always lead to noble outcomes. Sometimes, a far darker beast is born. A gritty-retelling of the Harry Potter world. AU. Non!BWL and Dark Harry.
1. Prologue: Dissension Amongst the Ranks

I've been wanting to do a gritty retelling of Harry Potter for a long time. At its heart, it's a young children's novel. I wanted to do a slightly more realistic retelling that challenges some of the assumptions laid out in canon.

Let me get this out of the way before the angry reviews come: this is AU. Clearly. Obviously. How can there even be a doubt? Harry will become a Dark Lord in this story. If that is not sufficient to convince you of this story's AU-ness, I don't know what else I can say. There are no time turners either. More differences will become obvious as the story progresses.

* * *

**Prologue: Dissension Amongst the Ranks**

Snape's stomach seized up; his lungs seemed to contract into an infinitesimal point, and his heart was being squeezed out of his throat. When breath didn't come, he managed to stagger four paces before emptying his latest meal onto the side of the street. Stomach acid still on his tongue and spittle staining his new robes, Severus Snape collapsed onto the side of the street, tears now readily falling.

The Dark Lord had decided the prophecy meant Lilly. Lilly Evans. Why not the Longbottoms? Why not any number of others? Why Lilly? Why his Lilly? He would never know these answers. But one thing was certain: Lord Voldemort was not someone who changed his mind.

Ever.

Dumbledore. The thought dimly swayed into the outskirts of the young Death Eater's awareness, and try as he might to swat it away, it seemed to take hold. "The only wizard the Dark Lord had ever feared," he spat grimly.

Dumbledore and his army of self-righteous, repugnant hypocrites who somehow always claimed a moral high ground. And yet, was there any choice? If this meant saving Lilly, he would wade through an army of inferi and eat nothing but hippogriff shit for the rest of his life. If it meant saving Lilly, he would lay himself at the feet of that Potter with nothing but the greatest meekness and kiss his boots. If it meant saving Lilly... would he die?

His heart quivered.

And in that moment, Severus Snape hated his selfishness. Even now, he was afraid – so afraid of death.

"Get up, Snape." A gruff, familiar voice seemed to boom.

Snape didn't bother to raise his gaze. "Black. If you're here for your usual banter, I'm not in the mood today."

"Do I look like I'm here for bloody banter?"

Snape looked up. The normally neatly combed, jet black hair was disheveled. It was the first time he noticed the few grays that seemed to have crept up. Perhaps it was the stress. Bags that could hold oceans had taken residence on Regulus' face almost permanently these past few weeks, and the man's eyes became permanently bloodshot. "It's time we had a talk."

Before Snape had time to respond, he felt his hand being grabbed and the familiar twist of side-long apparition had taken hold.

"Good, you've come." A third voice now.

Severus looked around. He knew this place. The Black family manor. Supposedly the most impregnable place ever created, possibly next to Azkaban and Nurmengard. The Blacks were a paranoid and talented bunch, and they took their security seriously. Snape seriously doubted the Dark Lord had ever set foot upon this mansion. Good. Safety. He was close enough to recognize the man now.

"Rosier?" Whoever he'd expected, it hadn't been Evan Rosier.

Rosier flashed him that trademark smirk. "Let's begin. We don't have time to waste."

Looking around, Snape couldn't find any others. So it was just the three of them. "What's this about?" Snape growled. With curiosity sated, irritation crept in to fill the void. His patience had worn thin.

Regulus' voice was soft and quiet, yet it possessed a new firmness that the young man didn't have before. "This has gone far enough. He needs to be stopped." A simple statement said boldly and with that soft firmness that drove the youngest Black heir.

A pin drop silence, and Snape didn't bother to use Occlumency. He doubted he could've cleared his mind at that moment even if he used all his magical capacity.

"Well?"

Snape blinked. He hadn't realized they were waiting for a response. "Usually, in this sort of scenario, one prepares a speech to convince a new initiate."

Rosier snorted. "Not if the initiate is already convinced."

Snape finally nodded. He was convinced. It had gone on long enough. They had all been in the same shoes, once upon a time. Bullied and friendless. Talented. And waiting for a good cause. Freeing the magical world from the oppression and confines of the Muggles. Freeing themselves to their full potential. Where had it all gone wrong? Snape didn't care anymore.

Lilly was what mattered.

"From this moment on, we serve as double agents. We do what we can to prevent the Dark Lord's goals, and ultimately, kill the Dark Lord himself." Again, Black – the youngest of the three – taking the lead. Considering they were in the Black manor, there was no doubt who had organized this.

Snape nodded. "What's the plan?"

"The Dark Lord, for now, is truly immortal." Again, a simple and unreal statement said with such ferocity that Snape could only accept it as simple truth. "He has made a Horcrux. Perhaps more than one, but I've found one of them." Black didn't bother explaining further. "I will be destroying them. I have a good idea how. Your job is to take over Rosier's responsibilities and expand upon them. You will contact Dumbledore and serve as a spy."

Snape's breath caught.

"You are a decent Occlumens, which makes you the best choice. That, and given that should you fail, the Dark Lord will kill the one you love."

"And what of you? Why should we trust you? How will you not be turned?"

Black snorted. "Everyone I love is dead, Severus. There is nothing more for me than to seek redemption."

What that meant, Snape didn't bother to try and learn. "And what of you, Rosier? If this is such a noble goal, why are you abdicating your responsibilities?"

"Things have... changed for me." The man's eyes shone.

And there was no mistaking it. Love. "You have a wife?"

Rosier smiled. No smirk this time. "And soon a daughter. My duties to them now precede my own salvation. I'm afraid that the task of our redemption must fall to you, Severus."

It all made sense now. "You're going into hiding."

"Partially, yes. But also seeking help. I will take them to Eastern Europe, away from the Dark Lord's sphere, and start amassing support for our cause. In time, we should have a sizable number of wizards to end this."

It was an enormous risk. It didn't make any sense – surely the most obvious way to keep them safe was to remain on the Dark Lord's good side. And a savage thought bit at him from the back of his mind. Like you helped Lilly remain safe? Like you didn't deliver her to the Dark Lord on a silver platter? Yes, well done Severus.

Perhaps Rosier mistook Snape's own guilty musings for doubt or hesitation. Whatever the reason, he felt the reason to add "Understand, Severus. I will do what must be done to protect my family. If that means I duel Aurors and die to help them escape, then so be it... And if that means I must kill a friend, I will do that, too. Do not betray us, Severus."

"You do not fear death," Snape's jealous whisper stained his conscience.

Surprisingly, Rosier barked a laugh. "Of course I fear it. But I would happily die to ensure my family's survival. And would you. Someday, perhaps, Lilly Evans will understand that, too."

He nodded. He would do what it took. For Lilly.

"Take today to prepare your assets and belongings in case you die." Black's soft firmness took over the room once more. "Tomorrow, you will go to Dumbledore and do what you must."

What he must. Yes.

* * *

There's the Prologue.

I'm playing with a new chapter length that's slightly shorter than my usual stories.


	2. Chapter 1: An Odd Sort of Preparation

This will be an epic fantasy. As such, there will be many, many points of view, and a bit of world building. Less than a real epic fantasy, since JKR has done us all the wonderful favor of building it already.

I want this novel to be a little more gritty than some of the other Lord Potter novels. What does this mean? It means that every character will have a flaw, much like real life. There are no perfect people, Harry least of all. Harry will not be a savior who is right about everything, nor will Voldemort be an irrational evil force of nature. Everyone has a motive, everyone has good points, and everyone has a flaw.

If you find yourself believing a character has no flaws, perhaps that says something about you? ;)

On the other hand, if you believe I haven't done a good enough job of establishing one of the characters' strengths or weaknesses, then please do let me know! That sort of review is particularly helpful.

Just food for though as you read this and future chapters.

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**Chapter One: An Odd Sort of Preparation**

"To prepare your assets and belongings in case you die."

Those were the words young Black had used, and to Snape they sounded like words of a man who had already done that. Something had caused Regulus to change allegiances, just as something had caused him to do the very same. He snorted. _Something_. Oh, just a trifling little thing called Lilly Evans, the only girl he'd ever loved. He knew the something that caused Rosier, too.

But what about Regulus?

Shivering, he felt naked. What was this man's secret? And what caused him to change so suddenly? Like many of the other Blacks, Regulus was immediately taken with a fanatical worshiping of the Dark Lord. Bellatrix had taught the boy well, and he lived and breathed Death Eaters. Snape had always seen the boy as having potential, if a little immature. Yet back in that room stood not a boy but a man. A man who had come to terms with his own death, and prepared for it. Yearned for it.

Mentally berating himself for the lapse of focus, Snape turned his attention back to the book Lucius had given him. Contemplating about Regulus wouldn't help him finalize his will. He would never have a family; Snape knew that, ever since the day he had called his only love a "mudblood". Indeed, that day had been burned into Snape's memory. It was this day that forced Snape to learn Occlumency. If only he had controlled his temper that one day. Just once.

He stared at the pictures of the two boys. Fraternal twins, not identical. Harry looked almost exactly like Potter, with jet black and unruly hair. The boy would be ever so slightly taller, Snape could tell already. If he truly took after his father, he'd be needing spectacles before his eighth birthday as well. And he was minutes older. Nathan, on the other hand, took after Lilly. He had her auburn-brown hair with rosy cheeks. But not her eyes.

Fate had cursed Severus Snape, and Severus Snape had deserved it. For calling Lilly Evans a mudblood, he had deserved everything he received, and he would not balk at his punishment. Fate had given Harry Potter, a near carbon-copy of James Potter, Lilly's most beautiful eyes. Resigning himself, Snape did what had to be done.

_To the eldest scion of the Potter family, I hereby declare you my sole heir. I bequeath unto you the knowledge and wisdom the Prince family has inherited, so that you may carry out my line in perpetuity. From here onwards, I relinquish all rights and privileges to the Prince family estates and deeds, and hereby declare you are the Lord of the Prince household. I declare this in Merlin's name under the light of the heavens, so all may know these words ring true._

_Your ancestor,_

_Severus Snape_

It was an ancient style; the old pure-blood custom that was followed rarely even amongst pure-bloods. The Malfoys were one such. An old tradition to pass on the secret spells and family estates when the eldest son came of age. Traditionally, this was whenever the current lord of the household decreed this to be so, although in recent times, families took seventeen to mean coming of age.

But Severus wouldn't live for another seventeen years; he knew this. He couldn't help but smirk at the old style. "Estates?" He mouthed the words with contempt. He possessed no estates to give. He owned no mansions. All he had to pass on was knowledge. Knowledge and hopes that Lilly's blood would have a better life than he. He stared at the ancient chest Lucius had provided. It had ample space – far too much, in fact. It served as a reminder of how little he was really passing on.

One genealogy book tracing back the Prince line. A vain attempt at not being forgotten once he was killed. The last of yet another wizarding family ended by the Dark Lord.

His Hogwarts books, particularly his notes on potions, spell creation, and curses. He didn't care what Lilly would say; her blood would need protection, and he wasn't going to say they didn't have any opportunities to learn. No, they what little he had to teach.

And lastly, the customary letter he had just signed.

The final element couldn't be prepared until he met Harry in person. He'd need a drop of the boy's blood to seal the chest so that no one but he could open it. That, combined with a small memory imprint to give the boy a general urging to open the chest would ensure he'd discover it, once the time came of course.

Such a spell had never been performed on an infant; memory imprinting was a lesser known branch of legilimency – something that Snape already had a tenuous grasp on at best. But it would have to do. Besides, as far as he was concerned, no harm could come of the boy learning to protect himself a little early.

All in all, it was an odd sort of preparation. Marching towards his own death with a calm, steady rhythm. That was really what it was. And yet, Regulus... Why did his mind keep circling back? He shook his head.

With a prick of the quill, he sealed the letter in his own blood and placed it, too, inside the chest.

It was time to prepare to go to Hogwarts. It was time to beg at Dumbledore's feet.

* * *

Hopefully, we're getting into good stride here with weekly updates. I've written up to Chapter 19 already, so each week I only have to make minor edits, and I've outlined up until the end of this book and the next one - about 65,000 words. That's for all you nay-sayers who look at my profile and see a heap of unfinished works. I'm in this one for the long haul. Or at least, for the next two books. :)


	3. Chapter 2: A Death Eater at Hogwarts

This chapter is short - super short, actually. Of the twenty four chapters I've written so far, it is the shortest. But I'm trying this new process where each chapter only gets one point of view, and each chapter takes place within a single locale / time. Otherwise, I feel that the chapters get crazy, and fanfics in particular have lots of line breaks and switches. I'm trying my hand at varying chapter lengths and making it feel more like a novel.

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**Chapter Two: A Death Eater at Hogwarts!**

Staring at the familiar hall that had plagued him and fascinated him throughout his youth, Snape walked up the ceremonious stairs to the headmaster's office. And suddenly, he realized that in all his anxiety, he hadn't bothered to figure out how he'd get in. How _was_ he going to get in? No one was going to give a Death Eater the password to the headmaster's quarters. But he didn't have to wait long. The door swung open, revealing not the senile old headmaster he had gotten used to picturing, but the blazing eyes of the most powerful wizard of his time - perhaps in wizarding history.

His mouth instinctively made the movement for "Headmaster", but he shoved down the habit. The man's name was Dumbledore, and he was just a man.

"Severus. Though you were not invited, you may come in. Tell me, what would one of Voldemort's Death Eaters have of me? Here to pass on a message from your master?"

Neither man moved for wands. There was no need; it wouldn't be a duel as much as a mercy killing by Dumbledore. Snape opened his mouth, but the well-practiced speech wouldn't come. '_I come here on my own, without the Dark Lord's knowing. I come here to put myself at your mercy._' _Say the words, damn you!_

Finally, unexpectedly, the tears started to flow. He felt the probe of legilimency, and Snape didn't bother to resist. Instead, he surfaced all of the memories at once, aiding Dumbledore as he could. He readily gave up the prophecy, how Voldemort had interpreted it, and how he begged to save Lilly. It was only when Dumbledore had begun probing the darker recesses – how Snape would even beg at Potter's feet, if necessary – did he start to shield his mind. A weak shield, simply made to protest.

And surprisingly, the older wizard relented.

"So, you seek redemption."

"_Fah_ to redemption!" Snape snarled. "I seek Lilly _alive_, regardless of what happens to my soul. Let me be kissed by the Dementors and my body fed to the spiders."

Dumbledore's eyes hadn't quite twinkled, but the power that radiated from the man subsided substantially.

"I – I have more." The tears were stopping. "There is a group within the Death Eaters that meets in secret, to oppose the Dark Lord. We all have our own reasons. Some of us have children and wives. Others have already lost everything and seek... _redemption_, as you say."

The half-crescent moon glasses bore through his soul.

He felt compelled to go on. "The Dark Lord, he... He is immortal, for now. He has made a Horcrux. Perhaps more than one. My job is to serve as a spy, to relay information to you and prevent the Dark Lord from gaining traction. Another in our group will be hunting down the Horcruxes and destroying them. We've had months of research, and we've finally figured out how. A third of us will be seeking support from Eastern Europe. The Dark Lord currently outnumbers his foes, but… But we're hoping to change that."

His rambles followed the stream of his thoughts and came out in a series of tangentially related babblings, but Snape had to prove his loyalty. He had to tell Dumbledore _all_ he knew, to gain his trust. To save Lilly.

"Hide them. Hide them all, I beg you."

"What will you give me in exchange, Severus?"

"Anything," he breathed.

* * *

So that's that.

I realize it's a slow start, but this book as a whole _is_ meant to be a prologue of sorts, so it covers everything from Harry's birth to the summer before his Hogwarts years. That's not to say it won't contain vitally important events, just that because I am painting an AU, I want to make sure I redo all the significant moments. This way all foreshadowings and clues are properly placed.

See you next time.


	4. Chapter 3: Everything to Die for

Sorry I'm late; my close friend from college visited me, and I spent the weekend touring him around. That, and some other personal life changes meant I entirely forgot to publish the chapter! Anyways, here it is.

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**Chapter Three: Everything to Die for**

Severus didn't bother reaching for a wand. Before him stood his worst nightmare – a living proof of all his failures in life. When faced with that, how much worse could death really be? Lilly had protectively wrapped herself around Potter, as if _he_ would ever hurt her. But he already had. Flanking either side like the trained dogs they were, the werewolf and Black stood ready for battle. Hoped for battle.

Silly little boys who could not live without reminiscing of their glory days. Severus had long moved on. His life meant nothing anymore; only Lilly and her blood. That was all that mattered. He exposed his back to them to take a look around the room for the first time. So this was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. He could feel the wards around him, churning and broiling like a magical overload. He even recognized some of them – Moody's handiwork, if he had to guess. But some were far older, likely built into the house itself.

The werewolf's voice brought him back.

"And what is _he_ doing here?" Sirius snarled.

Dumbledore, of course, never lost composure. "Severus is spying on Lord Voldemort on our behalf. I want it to be understood, to all of us in this room," he added after peering over his moon-shaped glasses at Sirius, "that he has the full weight of my trust."

"What did he do to earn your trust, Headmaster?"

As Lilly's voice wafted through the air, Snape turned to meet her eyes. She kept her gaze on Dumbledore so forcefully that Severus opted to look at her feet. Yet even in her anger, she was beautiful. Being in the same room tingled his skin. And age had only made her more beautiful. She was a woman now, not some silly girl who didn't know about magic. Her blossoming into motherhood did not change anything for Severus; it only made the palpitations worse.

"I'm afraid, my dear, that must remain between myself and Severus."

Snape relieved his breath slowly. Of course Dumbledore would keep his word. Of course he would.

"Severus, if you would be so kind as to let the others know what you told me."

"Yes, Headmaster." He soaked in Lilly's distrustful face, re-familiarizing himself with every curve and soft detail. It was like reading a favorite book again, but having forgotten the best parts. There were slight changes now. She had changed her hairstyle; he refused to think of the reason. Marks of wisdom wrinkled her normally happy image, and a few stray grays were starting to show through the perfect auburn locks. For her part, she kept her eyes firmly on Dumbledore. "The Dark Lord is coming for Harry and Nathan. Headmaster has told me you are familiar with the prophecy. The Dark Lord has decided that it must mean one of the twins."

Lilly forgot her fury. For a brief, tantalizingly sweet second, her eyes danced with his own, but while his were full of longing, hers held nothing but disbelief. "No!" She closed her eyes and collapsed into Potter's chest, and Snape felt his own stomach upchuck.

"He has, as of yet, not decided on a date. I have... recently, become accepted as part of the Inner Circle." Best not to mention that the means by which he acquired that promotion was the only reason Harry and Lilly were in danger. The werewolf tried to contain his emotions, but Black obviously possessed none of the self-control his brother seemed to have. He wore the disgust proudly. Rosier's parting words came back to Snape, and they still rang true. He had someone to protect. Some ones. And nothing else mattered; his life, his pride, and his soul were all forfeit for this cause. What did Black's disgust matter? "Since I am a new initiate, he may still not tell me when he plans to strike. In the coming weeks, I will work up the ranks, so that he has the utmost trust in me. Based on what I heard from him," he paused, the words sticking in his throat. "He plans to kill all four of you."

Dumbledore carried on when Snape could not. "We have discovered, thanks to Severus' efforts, that there is dissension amongst the Death Eaters. There are others who no longer believe in Lord Voldemort's cause, and they will fight. Accordingly, we must try and adjust our own strategy to seize and turn, rather than kill, whenever we can. Some are fleeing his ranks already to seek support from other parts of Europe where Voldemort's influence is, as of yet, weak. Others are seeking to find a way to destroy him. I have already had several members of the Order meet and learn of Severus' true allegiance, but for now, I would much prefer if we kept this to ourselves."

"You believe there to be spies in the Order?" Remus frowned.

"If there is dissension amongst Voldemort's ranks, then there may be in ours as well. Spies are particularly vulnerable in this war, and an exceedingly rare asset. We must protect them where we can."

Severus almost sneered at Black's frown. Clearly, the idea of protecting a Death Eater rankled his soul. But this was his first meeting. He didn't have the credibility or status to say anything. He was a turncoat, after all. When Dumbledore did not say any more, he realized the man was done and waiting for questions; perhaps the old school teacher instincts hadn't fully left. Regardless, the four in front of him weren't going to ask anything. "Headmaster," he ventured, carefully treading his eyes so they only met Dumbledore's. "About the other matter?"

"I am afraid, Severus, that my sphere of influence ends here. For this, you must as James and Lilly. Remus, Sirius, if you would please give us a moment."

Snape was surprised they had held out this long without any words of protest, and clearly this last had snapped any remaining control.

"Anything he has to say to me, he can say in front of Remus and Sirius!"

"If that is what you wish, Headmaster, of course I shall, but I must insist that – "

"And leave that Death Eater alone with James and Lilly?"

The voices all came at once, and Snape heard bits and pieces mix together to form sentences that weren't really said, but none of it mattered. Nothing they could have said was worse than anything he had already said to himself a dozen times. Nothing they could have said was worse than Lilly's total silence.

Finally, she spoke up. "Remus, Sirius. I want to hear what he was to say. Leave us."

Clearly, she was expecting an explanation for it all; why had he become a Death Eater? Why had he left? Why now? Did he still love her? Recently, he'd asked some of those questions to himself. And perhaps it was just his wish; she couldn't have cared less about him, for all he knew. Quietly and meekly, the other two left. Snape wanted to smile. It seemed the mistress of the Potter household was not to be trifled with. Lilly _did_ always get what she wanted.

"You must understand that this favor I ask of you has no bearing on my actions. I will remain loyal to the Order until the end of my life, however short that may be. If you choose to deny me, I will still perform my duties to the fullest extent of my abilities." The words Dumbledore had insisted now came out easy. The headmaster did not want parents frightened into acquiescing for something they would normally deny. Fair enough, Snape had to admit. "I want it to be clear that there is no quid pro quo here; should you choose to grant me what I will ask of you, it will be purely out of the goodness of your hearts, and your pity on a man who can sink no lower." That part had been his own. A part of him thought self-deprecation would be a wise tactic in front of Potter. Another part of him meant it. "Do you understand this?" He met Potter's eyes now. Almost certainly, Potter would be the one to deny or accept.

"Yes."

Snape nodded, and cleared his mind with Occlumency. He wasn't sure if he could get the words out otherwise.

"I do not have long to live." He conjured the trunk in which he had prepared his belongings. "In here lies all that I believe is valuable. A genealogy of the Prince family, from which I descend and am the last living person. Notes on spell creation and Potions from my Hogwarts days, and a letter." Based on Potter's eyes, he already knew where this was going. Lilly would, soon enough. "I request that you allow me to entrust my inheritance to Harry James Potter, so that he may represent the Prince family and serve as the heir to my household." He'd garbled the formal words; the smirk that turned into a frown on James' face was evidence enough of that.

But before the head of the Potter house could say anything, Lilly asked the one question he didn't want to answer. "Why would you do this, Sev?"

Severus winced. Was it just habit long forgotten? She likely hadn't said his name in at least five years, perhaps eight? _Because I love you._ The words died in his mind. He'd had this debate countless number of times. If she did love him, then he was ruining her marriage; he was a man for whom death was approaching rapidly, and no good could come of telling her. If she didn't, her final memory of him would be an arrogant traitor demanding her love after nearly a decade of being bitter enemies. She'd laugh it off with a shrug. But he could take that; he deserved it, after all. What he couldn't take was, in all likelihood, she would never trust him again. Any warnings he gave about the Dark Lord would go unheeded, and the blood of Lilly Evans would spill. And that was not something he could allow. Instead, he opted for the excuse he had given himself only days ago. "I am soon to depart this world. It would ease my pain to know someone carried on my line, even if it was only in name."

"You would ask me to give my eldest to you, so that instead of the Potter line, he could carry yours." Potter was incredulous.

But incredulity was deserved. Snape bowed his head. "Yes."

"Why not both?" Lilly looked between Snape and James and back again.

"The inheritance imprint is an ancient pureblood tradition," Dumbledore filled in. "It is a way to pass on land and deed and, most especially, magics that the family has learned over centuries to the heir. A person may only receive one inheritance imprint in their life. A second would prove disastrous."

"Your request is denied."

The words slapped Snape. He knew Lilly would not intercede on his behalf; not now, in public. She had more loyalty than that. _Occlumency; clear your mind, Severus_. The mental berating seemed to work. "I understand. Thank you for your consideration." Bowing, he turned to leave.

"You knew I would deny. Yet you asked anyway. Why?"

"The certainty of death does not mean life should be without hope," Snape quoted.

At last, the door opened, and Sirius and Remus were standing right outside. Snape sighed. There was no point in asking them to leave; it was obvious James would tell them both everything as soon as he left anyways, but at least they could have retained some modicum of respect for his dignity. But then, he could really blame them? He briefly considered whether a week ago, he could have helped either man retain any shred of their dignity. No, he certainly would not have. He and the other Death Eaters would have had them begging for death before granting them their wish.

Sirius' eyes blazed with challenge, daring Snape to voice any protest.

Snape had none. He was a man who would likely die in less than a month. Death had a miraculous effect, really. It put his entire life into perspective. Suddenly, the things that irritated him just didn't exist anymore. He had no time to be angry with Black; Black didn't matter. And just like that, the anger vanished. He saw through the ordinary hippogriff shit that festered in his life for the first time with an alarming clarity. Bowing to Black, he headed for the door. Normally, he'd have expected a provocation.

As if his thoughts shaped reality, Sirius frowned. "We're not going to take pity just because you've finally gotten what you deserve. A man with nothing to live for cannot be trusted. That's what you are now, isn't it? I've seen it in your eyes."

Snape thought about it for a moment. Black wasn't too far off the mark, to tell the truth. But he did not seek pity. He had made his bed, and now he would lie in it, unflinching. The words came hoarsely, and they were uttered mostly for his own ears. "A man who has everything to die for cannot seek pity. He must stand undaunted and meet his end with what little dignity he can muster."

He proceeded to the green fire with his head held high. He tried to be confident, tried to be brave. But walking towards one's own death is never easy. Biting back the tears of a life that could have been, Snape focused himself on the now. The blood of Lilly Evans. That was everything.

Severus Snape walked out of the Order of Phoenix headquarters for the first and last time on October 5th, 1980.

* * *

So I hope that chapter worked out well. I'm trying to have a careful balance between all the characters since no one is really 'evil' or meant to be 'bashed' in the traditional fanfic sense, but obviously you're meant to be sympathetic to Snape, since it's his point of view. More to come in the upcoming chapters!


	5. Chapter 4: In Another Lifetime

In case you haven't guessed by now, the reason I'm spending so long on the setup of the story, is that I'm making lots of promises to the reader; promises that have to be fulfilled in later chapters, and if I didn't set this up, then the events that happened later would seem crazy.

Also, part of the reason I'm releasing this early is because I'll be busy this weekend, so I won't have time to make the usual Friday update.

* * *

**Chapter Four: In Another Lifetime**

The tomes of books were all useless. Nothing had the information he wanted, and he suspected nothing would. Karkaroff's old Durmstrang books were all in German, and despite his use of translation charms, it was an imperfect result to say the least. "Every spell has a weakness," Snape spat. "_Every_ spell."

Black and Rosier exchanged glances.

This was their third meeting, and things were going well. Black had finally located where the Horcrux was, and he and his house elf were going to destroy it. Kreacher, if memory served Severus. Rosier had already moved his wife and daughter. It had become evident that the ministry wouldn't simply accept his vanishing away, so the man decided to kill off his former identity. He had a dead body ready with Polyjuice Potion and transfiguration. Hopefully, in the chaos of a duel with Aurors, no one would notice the quick swap out. With that, Evan Rosier would be dead. As for the man's alias – Snape didn't want to know. Some things were better left unsaid.

"Do we all understand what we must do?" Black intoned.

"We all understand," Rosier responded.

The others left Snape to his musings. The interesting thing about the Killing Curse – the thing that most glossed over – is that it was created by wizards. Sure, every spell was created by wizards, but Snape had created a handful of spells himself, and he knew the process better than most. _Every_ spell had a weakness; this was absolutely true. And yet, some six centuries before the birth of the founders of Hogwarts, some group of witches and wizards _created_ a spell that cannot be blocked, for which no known counter-curse exists, and has a certainty of death. It was ludicrous. Like all Death Eaters, he, too, had cast the Killing Curse. Some who were particularly proficient like Bellatrix could do so even nonverbally. And still, after nearly one thousand and four hundred years of emerald death, no one had found a single weakness.

And what signs were there that he, an above-average wizard at best, could solve a puzzle where so many others had failed? Was it pure arrogance that kept him going? The moon was well past halfway, and he was already sleep deprived. Perhaps one night's rest would help him uncover the puzzle.

Sever Snape awoke with a start. Surprised to find himself in the Black manor, he quickly straightened up and charmed the books back neatly where they belonged. The Blacks were well known for their knowledge of the dark arts, but nothing in their collection mentioned a weakness. And why would it? Ask the Dark Lord what his weaknesses were, and he would tell you that he had none. But ask Regulus Black? The man was full of ideas. Perhaps to find the weakness of the killing curse, he would need to seek the light.

Dumbledore.

No, the man was on some ridiculous man hunt or some such nonsense.

The Hogwarts library. It was the next best thing, and Dumbledore had instructed his staff that Snape would be permitted on all the grounds and treated like a professor himself, for whatever reason. But school would have started already, and the castle would be bustling with tiny, meddling students. He was better off waiting until curfew, but as it stood Lilly and her blood had a death sentence hanging above their heads, and no time could be wasted. He sighed. He could wait in McGonagall's office, he supposed. Muttering the password Dumbledore had given him, Snape appeared moments later on the outskirts of the Hogwarts grounds. Striding through the greens and ignoring the odd looks from students, he marched up to the transfiguration professor's office, only to find an abnormally short man standing next to her.

"Ah, Severus." Minerva stood to greet him. "Welcome. Severus, this is Filius Flitwick, our new professor of charms. Filius, this is Severus Snape, a former student. He will be our potions master starting next year."

Snape tried to not ogle. Dumbledore had not mentioned this as part of their agreement, but no doubt it had already been decided. He shrugged – as if it mattered; he wouldn't be living that long anyways. The man was _so_ short. Did he have goblin blood? And he couldn't help but feel he knew the man from somewhere.

Filius smiled. "Yes, I remember. You were at a dueling tournament with me, I believe. Second division? You were very impressive for one so young."

Then the bludger of recollection hit. Flitwick, the first division dueling champion for three straight years. Flitwick, the master charmer who shocked England with a surprise upset victory in his very first year. Flitwick, who he had met and asked for an autograph so many years ago that it felt like another lifetime now. Snape forced a smile onto his mouth. He had no _time_ for this. Bowing, he nodded. "You will make a wonderful professor. Hogwarts is lucky to have you."

"Now," Minerva placed her cup onto the desk. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm researching a counter to a particularly nasty spell. I wanted to make use of the Hogwarts library. Certain... lives may be at stake." He wasn't sure whether he could trust Flitwick, but the way he said it made absolutely sure that McGonagall did not miss his true meaning.

"Of course. No one is using the library so early in the term; I will go with you and help the students vacate."

Like she said – and like Snape himself remembered – this early in the year, there were hardly two students in the library; with curfew coming in but a few hours, the transfiguration professor hardly met any protest at all. And there, Snape catalogued and searched for hours. There were a few charms he'd learned in his days as a student to make such rote tasks easier. One dead useful one had been Lilly's own creation – a way to instantly check whether a book contained a particular word or phrase, and even go as far as pointing the particular page where it lived. Apparently, it had been inspired by some muggle technology.

Snape had eventually modified it to apply to many books, and with it he combed through the books that contained the words "killing curse", or "Avada Kedavra", or "finding spell weaknesses". As the hours dragged on, he still couldn't find anything, and he was forced to make the terms increasingly general. "Curse". "Counter." "Weakness." All of these had yielded hundreds of results, and, still, he could not find anything at all. It was in a disgruntled and disheveled state that a first-year student found Severus Snape at seven in the morning.

"What!" he growled.

"N-Nothing, Sir." The first year scampered off to whatever rat hole birthed it.

It didn't take long before word got around the school that a ghoul was infesting the library; no a boggart; no, a seventh-year who was failing a class miserably. The rumors began increasing to the point that by midday, students began pointing and whispering in not so hushed tones. As the stupidity grated on Snape's fried nerves with ever-increasing amplitude, Snape thought he would burst with anger when, suddenly, all the students were gone. In their place, Flitwick appeared, chortling to himself.

"So this is the great ghoul that has infested Hogwarts."

Snape growled in what he thought was a ghoul-like manner.

Flitwick humored him in good spirit. "Quite terrifying," he remarked. "Still, you should get some food. Starving is certainly not going to help you discover a counter-curse." The possibly half goblin shivered a bit. "Never did understand counter-curses much myself. Nasty, difficult stuff, that. Always preferred a counter-charm; much easier in my opinion. Unless of course you truly plan on _undoing_ the effects of the curse."

The hair on the back of Snape's neck stood on edge. That was Flitwick's specialty, he knew. But there was a difference between knowing and _knowing_. "A counter-charm. Against a curse."

Filius seemed to pay him little mind as the trudged to the Great Hall. "Oh yes, they're much more effective. Not sure why people ever bothered learning counter-curses, though take what I say with a grain of salt; we all know where my forte lies."

It was a perspective he hadn't considered, Snape admitted to himself. Perhaps this half-goblin knew a bit after all. Still, he wished he could consult Lilly. This was her expertise, after all, not his. Snape was so caught up in the possibilities of charms against curses that even the other faculty's stares glazed over him. Eventually, it was Dumbledore's soft, polite throat-clearing that brought him back. Not only had he missed Dumbledore's return, he had been staring at an empty plate for the past three minutes, preventing the house elves from clearing the table. Suddenly releasing his plates and cutleries, Snape backed away from the table.

"Forgive me, Headmaster. I was thinking about a particularly complex problem."

"Not at all, Severus. It happens to me all the time."

Excusing himself from the table, he took refuge in his own former professor's guest quarters. Rumor was that Horace Slughorn was finally retiring after so many years. The man had apparently joined Hogwarts at the same time as Dumbledore himself, and he fancied a more luxurious lifestyle than Hogwarts could afford him. It all fit together; that would be why Dumbledore wanted Snape as potions master. Slughorn himself had claimed Snape was his most gifted potions student in decades. Groaning against the lumpy mattress, Snape was too exhausted to even place a softening charm as he drifted off to sleep.

"Severus, we must speak." Dumbledore's voice.

Snape sprang out of bed like an overwound clock. His back ached in odd places, but he didn't care. Something about his dreams filled with bits and pieces of old charms lectures had given him inspiration. He knew he could find something. He just knew it. "I accept."

A slight pause. "Minerva has told you already, I see." Dumbledore said cheerfully. "A dutiful assistant headmistress as always. Yes, I am planning on giving you the potions master position once Horace retires, but that is not the matter I was intending on discussing. If you would meet me in my quarters, Severus?" The man vanished. _Inside_ Hogwarts! He blinked. Dumbledore could apparate inside Hogwarts, something which even the Dark Lord could not manage. What else had he been hiding? Hope bloomed inside Snape; this man, the only wizard the Dark Lord ever feared, _would_ keep Lilly safe.

"I have called you to consult your opinion on an idea I've had for keeping Harry and Nathan safe. The Fidelius charm."

"I... I confess, Headmaster, I am not familiar with this particular spell."

Dumbledore continued. "Quite understandable; it is a particularly old spell that fell out of favor three hundred years ago or so. This charm relies on a secret keeper within whom we shall entrust a particular secret; in this case, the new location of the Potter household. The charm itself takes a particularly long time to cast – near a full twelve hours, so I'm told. But the beauty is that _only_ the secret keeper can divulge the information. Even if Lilly herself were to march into this room, she could not tell you in a way that you could understand where she lives."

Snape's eyes grew with understanding. Even if a Death Eater were to find out, he could not share the information with anyone else – not even the Dark Lord.

"You understand the significance of this. There are, of course, weaknesses. If you know the Fidelius Charm is being used, half of the mystery is lost. Instead of believing the persons you seek are exceptionally good at hiding, you begin searching for likely secret keepers. And once the secret keeper is found..."

"Veritaserum," Snape finished.

"Certainly one possibility. Lord Voldemort is of course an accomplished practitioner of legilimency, as well. Regardless, this charm is something that would significantly bolster their defenses. I would like your thoughts on this idea."

"Mine? Headmaster, you are a far greater wizard than I could ever hope to be."

"Be that as it may, Severus, it is useful to have other perspectives."

Snape nodded. There was sense in that, and an extra opinion could not hurt. "It is a good idea. An excellent idea. Just make sure the secret keeper would never turn. I'm sure Potter would trust Sirius Black. I would choose him to be the keeper."

Dumbledore nodded. "Good."

The finality with which it was said caused suspicion. "You've already done it, haven't you?" Snape ventured.

Dumbledore gravely nodded.

"This was another test. To see if I've _really_ turned. After all you said about your full trust... Did you expect me to try and persuade you to make _me_ the secret keeper or some such nonsense!?"

"We have been betrayed too many times for me to give faith so easily, Severus. I am sorry, but I daresay I may continue to test you for a few more years."

Snape placed the anger in the back corner of his mind in a sack. Then, for good measure, he jumped on the sack a few times to stomp any life out of it. He was a dead man. Dead men had no time to be angry. Dead man had to get their affairs in order and simply pass on when the time came.

"Forgive me, Headmaster. Sometimes I forget who is the turncoat." Dumbledore's eyes almost twinkled at that point. _Twinkled_! The gall of the man. Snape didn't think he'd ever meet anyone more irritating than Lilly when she pretended to be correct even when she was wrong, but the headmaster gave her a good run for her money.

Somehow, Snape had a feeling that if he didn't have a death sentence on his head, that he and Dumbledore would develop a tremendous respect for each other. That over the years, the ferocity of his own loyalty to Dumbledore would only be overshadowed by the man's trust in him. And someday, somehow, Snape himself would become headmaster. He shook it away. That was another Snape in another lifetime.

"Oh, and let's discuss your occlumency practice tomorrow. If you are to serve as a spy, it would be in our best interest that you were not found out."

"Of course, Headmaster. Is there anything else?"

"That is all."

_This_ Snape had to find a counter to an unthinkable curse. "If you'll excuse me, Headmaster, I have a counter-charm to research."

"By all means, Severus."

Snape trudged back to the library with a strange smile on his face. The rather annoying thing about a man like Dumbledore was that he could make you like him even if you'd much prefer to stay angry at the man. It didn't seem fair that someone could incite such affection without permission or even the slightest effort. But that was the way it was.

He chuckled to himself. That other life he had lived must have been a truly interesting one. Perhaps just as hard and unfair, yes – but almost certainly _interesting_.

* * *

In case you can't tell, I really like Snape! Not that he's perfect; far from it, there will be some serious flaws to come. Unfortunately, I find myself having the need to take him out of the story early for reasons that will become clear soon enough. See you next time!


	6. Chapter 5: The Weakness

Okay, so I'm a teensy bit late for this chapter. It's mostly because I've been doing very little writing and more thinking about where I want the story to go.

To that end, I've had to re-outline large sections of the story; it's not that I've even changed _which_ events happen, just _when_ they happen. I've outlined up to book five in the series, and things just weren't fitting together. None of this affects the first twenty or so chapters of this book, which are already written of course. Just a lot of meta-thinking about the series as a whole that got my attention.

To that end, I've decided to change the summary. So if you see the summary change and are now freaking out that the story's vision isn't in line with what you first thought: fear not; the overall arc of events is unchanged. I've just changed when those events happen, and in doing so, found a more appropriate summary for this book.

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Weakness**

In the weeks that followed, Snape poured himself into his research with increasing alacrity. Some of his fellow Death Eaters may have noticed, and perhaps Dumbledore, but he couldn't afford their concern. He had a lead now – a solid, tangible lead. Of course, the Hogwarts library didn't have what he sought because the school itself was too young. What he sought was an ancient form of magic long forgotten.

Before wizards and muggles lived in separate worlds. Before wizards and witches even began _teaching_ magic so much as discovering it. Before the notion of technical terms like charm, hex, or jinx was common parlance. No, he was looking for a magic older than even the killing curse itself; something that was inborn in all living creatures. The kind of magic children did today when they were first discovering magic.

It was a crazy thought, he knew. But as time went on, he became increasingly convinced. Imagine a world where, before education, _all_ magic was that form of uncontrolled, violent spurts that children did? It would make sense, of course. Magic didn't come so naturally to everyone. That was why they had schools.

Even the greatest wizards of today only became so due to the discoveries of older wizards before them. And without any such guidance? Why all magical creatures would simply be fumbling around, grasping at straws. It would be a miracle if a witch mastered three spells in her lifetime.

Severus Snape was looking for a magic that was at least two-thousand years old, perhaps even older. And for that, he needed _historical_ archives; not magical ones. He needed the Ministry of Magic. But how to go there, when he was a known Death Eater?

Crabbe kicked him underneath the table, and the searing pain in his kneecap whirled him back into the present. This was a meeting of the Inner Circle, and just because they usually were incredibly _mundane_ did not mean he could afford to let his mind wander. And just like that, the entire room's attention was focused on him.

"And what do you believe, Severus?"

It didn't seem possible that a body so handsome could radiate such a cold, cruel voice. The occlumency lessons with Dumbledore were paying off. It seems the old wizard really _did_ know some things that the Dark Lord had yet to learn; even the passive legilimency that was always in use seemed to be deflected with ease.

"We should wait until the Potters are unguarded; Dumbledore intends on casting and old charm to conceal their hideout permanently. He would not trust me, yet, with the name of the charm."

"All sound advice," the voice brushed dismissively. "Still, it is no problem. We will have what we need to find them by the end of the week."

Snape's stomach curdled, but he bowed and murmured a respectful, "Yes, my lord." It looked like his instincts were correct after all. Voldemort had another spy within the Order of the Phoenix. One that did not even attend meetings of the inner circle of death eaters. Perhaps he was a relatively new asset? Or perhaps the Dark Lord did not truly trust him enough yet.

"Ugh," Snape grunted, almost stepping on a rat. It seemed like the rats were growing bolder by the day. Only yesterday, one had been staring at him almost challengingly. Pulling out his wand, he murmured a silent curse, but, almost as if it knew what was going to happen, the animal scurried off. _Bolder by the day, these damn rats_. He didn't have any more time. One week, at the latest.

He had to tell Dumbledore. Besides, if he was going to have any hope of sneaking into the Ministry, he'd need Polyjuice Potion. Hopefully, Dumbledore could persuade Slughorn to part with some. Snape guessed he'd need perhaps five hours' worth. Enough to copy all of the relevant texts into his own parchment, so that he could study them at leisure.

"Lemon drop," he sighed into the portkey.

_I swear this fool's obsession with muggle candies will be the end of him_. Snape's thought was too filled with amusement and fondness for his own liking. It hadn't even been a month, and he was already almost taking a liking for this eccentric old coot! Evidently, it was showing. Just yesterday, Minerva had remarked on "what a good mood" he'd been in, and how the castle "must have been doing him some good." Even worse, some students were starting to _fraternize_ with him, apologizing for the entire "ghoul" incident and treating him like a _friend_.

Shivering it off, Snape did his best to stomp over to the headmaster's quarters, making sure to fire hexes in the general direction of any student that foolishly attempted to make conversation. _So they think I'm affable now, do they? I'll show them._ No indeed! By the time he was done, the entire school would think him the meanest, most terrifying would-be professor in the history of Hogwarts. They'll _wish_ he were a ghoul. Affable, indeed!

Feeling the natural order restore itself, Snape entered Dumbledore's quarters, only to find the man gone. The phoenix, Fawkes, he though it called, crooned in the corner quite happily. The office was entirely too happy, he decided. He'd just have to leave a note and get back to his research.

_Headmaster,_

_The Dark Lord plans on attacking by the end of the week. I do not yet know the source of his confidence. I am certain that Black is not a traitor, having never yet seen him in the meetings. But the Dark Lord is entirely too confident for my comfort. I do believe this bears investigating; please ensure that Black is safe and not under the Imperius Curse._

_-S_

There, that should be good enough. Now, he had to borrow a rather unnatural amount of Polyjuice Potion. He mentally prepared the speech he'd give to his former professor, along with the excuse he'd make. Remembering to take a particularly abandoned path through the corridors and hidden paths he encountered as a student, he snaked his way to what was supposed to be his future potions classroom.

"Severus, what a pleasant surprise!" Slughorn beamed. "What can I do for one of my best students?" Stopping himself, he chuckled. "Force of habit, forgive me. It's been many years since you were my student. But it happens to all of us, I dare say. Well, what am I saying? You'll find out for yourself soon enough now, won't you?"

Snape sincerely doubted he would. Snape wasn't a teacher. He wasn't cut out to be one. To deal with so much… incompetence on a daily basis. He almost wretched. The sheer stupidity was overwhelming. And all of that was discounting the fact that it seemed he'd be dead very soon indeed. But he said none of that. Instead, he merely bowed and said, "You are too kind, Professor."

"Horace, my boy! Call me Horace. Now, what can I do for you?"

"I need Polyjuice Potion. I'd brew it myself, but I need it this week; today, preferably."

Horace frowned. Of course, having been head of the Slytherin house, he would have been quite accustomed to ridiculous and potentially illegal requests from students. But from a future faculty member? Snape doubted it.

"It's... It's for a mission for the Order."

Horace's eyes widened. "I hadn't realized that you partook, Severus."

"It's a… relatively recent development," Snape admitted.

"So the rumors are untrue after all." He said quietly. Then, in a louder voice, "I said so, of course. To everyone, mind you. I told them it was ridiculous that Severus Snape was a Death Eater. Why even I still remember how close you and Lilly Evans were. Friends with a muggle born, and still people call you Death Eater! The nerve of some people," Slughorn shook his head with confidence.

Snape fought the urge to roll his eyes. Pomposity, it seemed, was a lifelong love affair when it came to Slughorn. "They are most certainly untrue," Snape nodded.

"Yes well, if Dumbledore says so, I see no problem with it. Here you are," Slughorn reached into his coat and dropped a small vial into Severus' hand. "Last of my batch. I had planned other uses for it, but… Well, helping a future colleague in need certainly trumps some of my shenanigans, now doesn't it?" A hearty laugh followed, and Snape tried to respond in kind.

"Thank you, Horace."

It was enough for perhaps two hours. Snape sighed. He'd have to make due. Snape almost ran to the outskirts of the Hogwarts barrier to activate the portkey. With a twist of his navel, Snape winked into existence right at the heart of Diagon Alley. Rookwood had given Snape the access to the Ministry library along with a hair sample. He stepped into the bathroom, only to find it swamped with Ministry officials heading to work.

A red headed man next to him frowned, and a short, blonde man smiled pleasantly.

"Quite the morning, isn't it?"

Was it morning? Snape shrugged. "Indeed." He needed to find somewhere else to drink the potion. And he had no time to waste in some silly queue waiting to flush himself into the Ministry. No, he needed another route. _But you do know another route_, a sinister voice said from a memory long forgotten. And so he did. The Knight Bus made a stop at the Ministry. Something he knew all too well from his own childhood.

Sighing, he stuck out his wand. _Three… Two… One…_

With a hiss and a bang louder than any Confringo could have produced, the Knight's Bus crashed in front of him; rather, it would have, if the car in front hadn't mysteriously been moved out of the way. "Knight Bus, at yer service. Aay!"

Oh dear Merlin, not now. Please let them forget.

"Aay, ain't you that Prince fellow?"

Snape felt the blood draining from his face. _Clear your mind. Clear your mind._ "I'm afraid I'm running late; I have no time for your mis-recollections."

"Ernie, ain't he that Prince fellow?"

Before Ernie had a chance to validate Stan's findings, Snape placed six sickles into Stan's hand, and rushed into the bathroom. "Ministry of Magic," he screamed from the back of the bus. "And keep the change!"

_Six stops_. Snape knew the route by now. He just had to wait for five bells, drink the potion, and walk out of the bus on the sixth. But the bells seemed to take an agonizingly long time, and Stan bloody Shunpike was speaking loudly enough that even in the bathroom, Snape could hear every word.

"Remember that Prince fellow Ernie? Must have been over five years ago when we saw that lad, and still one of the darn best stories I ever saw!"

_Ding!_

Snape felt his teeth grind. One down, five to go.

"This boy had soaked his britches, he had. Pissed all over, muddy as a dog. Waddles into the bus claiming some other boy cursed him."

Loud laughs echoed throughout the bus. The story was popular, as it always was, no doubt. It had a practiced effect, as if Stan and Ernie had told it many times over the years.

_Ding!_

Snape thought if his hand rubbed against his face any harder, his skin might just pop off.

"So I says, well what happened? Did the boy get caught? Seemed like an innocent enough question, don't it?"

Ernie was laughing too hard to respond.

"This little Prince boy gets so flustered and angry, he starts screaming 'Not you, too! You don't get to ask me why that potter didn't get caught!' So I says to him, 'Must be a pretty nasty pot if you wanted to piss yourself instead o' using it!'"

The bus erupted.

_Ding!_

"I've never seen a man so upset with a potter; to be honest, Ernie, I didn't even realize we still used potters! I mean the loo ain't good enough for this Prince boy, you see. Oh no, he wants a high quality pot, he does!"

People where wheezing now, and by the sounds of it, some were even rolling on the floor.

"So I says, 'I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I will find a better potter you as soon as my shift is up.' An – An you know what he says?"

_Ding!_

"He starts sputtering about how dare I, and ooh, when he learns this curse, I'll be the first one he comes after. And as he shakes his wand at me, poor lad – he slips on his own number one! Next thing I know, not only do I have a potter to find, I got piss all over me floors and a lad crying in the heap of it!"

The bus hadn't moved. The bloody passengers were waiting for the end of the story! At long last, the familiar lurch of motion wound its way through the bus, and between the great laughs of the passengers, Snape heard the fifth one.

_Ding!_

At last. Snape waiting for another thirty seconds simply for good measure. Taking a swig of the murky mud in the vial, he downed half of it in a single, disgusted gulp. Waiting for the transformation to be over, he walked out to the front of the bus. The story of his first and only experience on the Knight Bus before tonight. One of the worst nights in his life. Even through the occlumency, Snape could feel roses blooming on his cheeks.

_Ding!_

Before they had any time to comment on whether he was or was not "the Prince boy", Snape rushed out of the bus and into the familiar Ministry room.

Taking the path Rookwood recommended, he finally found himself in the records room. His watch said he'd lost ten minutes in the entire Knights Bus ordeal. He had no more time to lose. From row to row, he cast the same three incantations he'd learned from Lilly so long ago: one to remove any enchantments from the books temporarily, one to copy the books onto his own parchment, and another to enable the enchantments once more.

All in all, perhaps ten seconds per row. But the building was too large. He'd end up missing a large section. Frowning, he skipped over any rows dated after the fifth century. The information wouldn't be there. Still, he needed to go faster. He made the spells non-verbal, hoping he'd performed them a sufficient number of times to still be effective. _Faster_. _Faster!_

Halfway through, he felt the effects of the potion wearing off. He stared into his vial. It was just enough for another hour. He emptied the rest of its contents, banished the vial, and continued copying the pages. He wished that by now it would have become easier, or at least like a rote chore he could do without concentration.

But this particular spell had always given him trouble. Lilly was always the charms expert, and for a solid two hours, Snape needed his full concentration. After another fifty minutes, he knew he had to stop. There were still hundreds of book shelves, and there was no way he would get to all of them. Best to leave and go back to Hogwarts.

Four days rolled by with much the same monotonous rhythm. Snape woke up from a terrible nightmare, stormed into his enchanted parchment with renewed determination, casting an ever-broader net of searches, and eventually tiring and having a meal only when forced by Flitwick or McGonagall.

Miracles, it turned out, were exceedingly common in the ancient times – particularly since there was no formal sense of magic and an enormous amount went entirely unexplained. But it seemed that the greatest of miracles always seemed to revolve around magic inexplicably weakening.

A rapist came and killed the mother; he then cast a paralysis spell on the daughter, which she seems to have fought off despite being entirely inexperienced with magic. A poacher kills the owner of a dragon, only to never be able to find the dragon, no matter how far he looks or what spells he uses. So on and so forth. There were hundreds and thousands of such stories, flittered throughout history, and all of them had numerous possible reasons for why events transpired in such a manner.

The worst part was that the Killing Curse hadn't even been invented at the time, so Snape was really trying to simply piece together a possibly existing counter-charm that affected an entire series of spells, not just Avada Kedavra.

A loud grumble from his belly. His body was so irritating sometimes. All the magic in the world, and the wizarding community still hadn't figured out how to live without food. Didn't it see that he had work to do? He was on his way down to the Great Hall when he caught the Daily Prophet headline.

"EVAN ROSIER KILLED IN DUEL WITH ALASTOR MOODY."

Snape chuckled. So the wily Rosier managed his escape after all. Good for him. But when Snape turned to move, Dumbledore was in front of him, summoning Severus to the headmaster's chamber. With a breath, Snape climbed the stairs to meet the eccentric leader of Hogwarts.

"Severus, I am worried for you. You simply cannot go on like this."

Snape didn't know what to say. It didn't matter? Soon I will be dead? You only care about your asset, not me? Ultimately, he went with "I am very close."

"This counter charm you are searching for… It can wait. Take your leisure. Obsession is a young man's game, Severus, and I fear you are rapidly approaching middle age. Take it from one far older than yourself – time stops for no wizard."

_Tell me about it_.

"Besides, Lilly and James are perfectly safe. Peter is hidden away where no one can find him."

"Peter? Who cares about – " Snape lost balance as his knees gave way. "Peter is the secret keeper?" Breath eluded his lungs. "Black! It was supposed to be Black!"

"I assure you, he, too, is perfectly safe."

Dumbledore didn't understand. "Potter away. Order mission. Tomorrow. Lilly unguarded." Tomorrow. There was no doubt about it, it was tomorrow. He turned to Dumbledore. "Peter. _Must_ be Death Eater." And there it was – the truth along with all of his latest dinner and stomach acids, spilled onto Dumbledore's ornate carpets in a heap. "No. No, no, no. No!" It seemed to be the only word that fit.

"Are you certain of this?"

"Rat. Animagus." Snape nodded. The rat that was too smart for any rat. The renewed confidence the Dark Lord possessed. The assurances. How could he have missed this? "Must go. Verify." He straggled to his feet. It was so obviously certain.

"Within the hour, Severus. If you do not return, I will assume the worst and go to Lilly."

Snape nodded and stumbled to his portkey.

* * *

Okay!

I think we all know what happens next; prepare yourselves for a sniffler next week. :) Based on the summary, it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone.


	7. Chapter 6: A Good Life

Okay! So I'm a teensy bit late, but what's one day between friends? The worst part is that I have no excuse; the chapter was already written and edited over a month ago; I just forgot to post it.

Anyways, here we are. Let me know what you think!

* * *

In his frantic thought, all of the stories of the past months kept replaying in his mind. A mother dies to save her son. A husband dies and saves his wife. A master dies to save his beloved dragon. Over and over and over.

He was more than likely half-mad. But if he wasn't? If willingly sacrificing yourself was one of the most powerful counter-charms? If his death could protect the bloodline of Lilly Evans forever then… then wasn't it all worthwhile?

One day. He had one day.

The atmosphere amongst the Death Eaters was significantly lighter. People were nodding to him, cackles abounded, and sparks flew wherever he went.

"Congratulations, Severus," was murmured more than a few times. It was only when he approached the Dark Lord did it become abundantly clear. Severus Snape did not have a day.

There at Lord Voldemort's right hand stood Peter Pettigrew in all his cowardice. Hunched over and grinning madly, it seemed almost as if his Animagus form may have affected his physical being. Anger seethed within, and it took Snape a moment to get himself under control. _No amount of hand-wringing will absolve you of your treachery, you filth_.

"Ah, Severus. Have I not always been just?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Have I not always been fair?"

"Of course, My Lord."

"You, who have brought word of the Prophecy to me. You, Severus, deserve recognition. After tonight, there will be no more need for secrecy. The last hope of Dumbledore will be slain by my hand in a matter of hours. Then, by his own prophecy, there is no one who can challenge me."

A few cheers scattered throughout at the proclamation.

"Wormtail has come to me only recently, but already he has proven himself. By convincing the Potters to make him their secret keeper, we now have access to their home. Tell them, Wormtail. Tell them where Dumbledore has hidden them."

Peter grinned widely. "Godric's Hollow, My Lord."

The man was thoroughly enjoying it, was he? Snape would see about that. No, no he wouldn't. There was no time for revenge and silly quests. He had to get to Lilly _now_.

"After tonight, there will be a reorganization amongst my followers. We will need a new name, as we become are born anew. After tonight, you all here will be rewarded above all for your loyalty. Tomorrow will be the dawn of a new era for the wizarding world, with me at its head."

Deafening cheers.

It was four, agonizingly long minutes before the Dark Lord left, giving Snape permission to do the same, and it took all of his willpower to not leave a second before. In an instant, Snape was outside Godric's Hollow. He didn't even remember walking to the Potter's house, but it didn't matter. Slamming the door open, he found the entire house empty.

Lilly sprinted downstairs with her wand out, and then sighed seeing him. "It's only you, Sev. Merlin, you scared me."

"Where are the Aurors!? Where is James?" His voice was frantic, but he couldn't muster up enough concern. "The Dark Lord approaches, you must go to safety!"

A pause. "Peter," she breathed. "Fuck."

There was that muggle upbringing. Some other time, he could have marveled at how beautiful she made such a word sound; how the movements of her lips gave life and wings to even the ugliest duckling; but this was not that time. "We must go to Hogwarts. Have a portkey with me."

The two ran upstairs to the nursery.

Two identical cribs. It was a peaceful room. The children were asleep. Two nearly-identical bibs were worn by each, one with a large 'N' and the other with an 'H'. Lilly gathered both in her arms and hugged Severus. Proximity was necessary for portkeys, he told himself. Quietly, he whispered "Sherbert Lemon." But nothing happened. "Sherbert Lemon." Again, nothing.

"Someone has sealed it off," Lilly frowned. Her voice was calm but panic was in her eyes. "Did someone discover you were – "

"Wormtail," Snape growled.

As if it were a summons, the door burst open downsrairs. Before he could stop her, Lilly had already instructed him to leave with the children and sprinted downstairs to face her attackers.

Snape knew what he had to do; he wasn't sure how, but he knew it was important. Perhaps he really was mad by now, listening to strange voices in his head? Yes, he was certainly mad. But the strange thing was the voice hadn't been wrong yet. It hadn't been _right_ yet either. Would he live to find out? Harry was awake now. The most brilliant green eyes stared back at him, and his breath caught.

_He has his mother's eyes_.

The photograph could not compare; it would never compare. Such a beauty must be witnessed firsthand. Unsure of why he was doing this, he took out his wand anyway. The words came easily; they had been practiced, after all.

"Blood of Lilly Evans, I hereby surrender the name Lord of Prince unto you and decree that from this day forth, you will represent the Prince family in all aspects and are entitled to everything we own, know, and hold dear." After a small prick of Harry's thumb, a simple white-silver line danced from his forehead where his wand had pulled it. A moment later, it ran into Harry's skull, and the boy started to cry. Snape had been told it wasn't a particularly pleasant exercise. Sealing Harry's blood inside his own wand, he completed the ceremony. "May you find happiness, my son. Grow up to be strong and wise. Do not be a fool, like I was. And listen to your mother."

Tears were falling. It was like a dream. Was this what good fathers said to their sons? He wouldn't know; he never had one. The blood of Lilly Evans was now also the heir to Prince. It really was a dream. Strange, that the happiest moment in his life should come so close to the end? Perhaps all the better for it.

Lilly's body crashed onto the floor next to him. Her breath came ragged and choking, but it came.

"Oh, Severus." The cold voice seeped into his marrow. "When Wormtail told me you betrayed me for a _mudblood_ I could hardly believe it. You really _love_ her, don't you?"

For some reason, death didn't seem so scary anymore. Thoughts of Harry and Lilly growing up filled him to the brim, and he wanted to burst out with laughter. Oh, to have a son! What kind of man would he be? Would he respect his mother and do his homework? What a stupid thing to be concerned about so close to the end, but there it was. That worry seemed just as large as whether Harry would think of him fondly. Was this the madness that Rosier referred to? A man afflicted with two madnesses, that's what he was.

It was time for the farewell. "May your darkest days be as difficult as my brightest days. May you always find love in your life to come easy. May you always seek wisdom and strength. May your bonds grow ever stronger through every trial. May you always respect your fellow man." It was something his mother had told him once, and for whatever reason, it stuck. He smiled and stepped forward.

"Too weak to even fight back? You disgust me."

Snape could hardly hear the words. Through the tears, he could hardly see. Would Harry love a girl with as much beauty and elegance as Lilly? Snape sincerely hoped so; his son deserved the best. His fatherly pride waxed. And the boy would win the House Cup – whatever house he was in! But you couldn't be too lenient, oh no. No, he would certainly have to do his chores and do his best on studies. Yes, a balance had to be struck. Oh, he supposed every _once_ in a while he could afford to be lenient with the boy. Perhaps just on vacations.

It was a difficult life at times. And often unfair. And he made mistakes along the way; sometimes horrible mistakes for which he could never be forgiven. He knew that. Severus Snape was not a good man, and the history books would say as much. And yet, despite everything, it was a good life. It almost seemed unjust that one such as he should have such a good life. Perhaps it was best not to keep death waiting.

But Death seemed to smile at him, not at all upset. Strange, how much death looked like his mother.

"Did you have a good life, my son?"

Snape shook back tears. "I had a wonderful life. Thank you for the gift of life."

She held out her hand, and he took it.

"Come. It's time to go."

Snape smiled and nodded. Yes, it was time to go.

"Avada Kedavra."

* * *

I thought I'd start out with a Snape POV, since this is going to be an epic fantasy that will have multiple points of view - and since he dies in this story early, I'll miss the chance to give a Snape chance entirely.

Okay, see you next time!


	8. Chapter 7: It Was Put Behind Us

Okay - so I'm _super_ late and totally forgot to upload a chapter last week! What can I say, life surprises you with bouts of craziness. So, to make it up to you, I'm publishing both weeks' chapters right now. :) All's well that ends well?

* * *

**Chapter Seven: It Was Put Behind Us**

Three days.

It had been three days since James Potter last saw his wife and children, and each minute seemed riddled with nightmares. The fact was the Order was bleeding members, and certain missions were crucial. Everyone had been understanding at first, certainly; after all, Voldemort was threatening everyone, and they patiently waiting for him to get his family safe.

But he couldn't very well tell them about the Fidelius Charm and the prophecy, especially with Dumbledore's worries that there might be spies within the Order. So as time went, they grew more impatient. With each passing day, more died or went missing. So, James Potter did what he had to. He took a short term mission that started next week. Dealing with giants was never easy, and giants that sided with Voldemort were the worst of all.

But someone had to do the job.

Besides, time alone was good. He had too much to think about of late. Like Snape. Lilly may have been blind, but he wasn't. Snape had always had a crush on Lilly during their Hogwarts days. The common interest between he and Snape was partially the reason Sirius suggested so many pranks on the man. _That, and the fact that_ _we were bullies_, he thought grimly.

Of course, people change. A silly little crush bloomed into a love which evolved into a wonderful little family that he and Lilly shared. Snape, in the meantime, seemed to darken by the day, until he and Lilly fell out completely. They hadn't spoken for five years – six? Until that fateful day when he simply showed up on their door, with _Dumbledore_.

Lilly still couldn't understand it. Perhaps she simply didn't want to, but James did. What he and Sirius had always assumed to be a crush had been something more all along. Severus Snape was thoroughly in love with Lilly Evans. But that just made it all the more confusing. Why would he call her a mudblood in front of the entire school? Why not beg for forgiveness? _Pride_, the lion in his chest roared.

He shoved it away, but its haughty mane kept interrupting his thoughts. And suddenly, he was angry. How could Snape claim to love Lilly and so something like that? _He_ would never do that, certainly not. _Oh no? I would like to see the great James Potter, leader of the Marauders, on his knees begging for forgiveness in front of the entire school._ The voice – his own voice – kept snickering, pushing his recent confidence into murky waters.

Perhaps the only difference was that, on the worst day in his life, he still had someone to rely on and bring him back from the darkness. He could still remember his wands wobbling as his hands shook with rage. The killing curse on the cusp of his lips, begging for release. The Death Eater's painful writhing driving the coldest joy into his heart.

Sirius and Remus had been there. They lowered his wand, told him it was over, and said Lilly wouldn't want him like that. And that had been that. But what if none of those people were there? What if, instead, he were surrounded by fifty other people encouraging him to go further? Would he really have had the strength to resist at that moment?

_The only difference between you and Severus Snape is that he was given the opportunity, and you never were._

"Not really," he mumbled through gritted teeth. There was a definite difference between killing a Death Eater and killing and torturing innocent people. And was he supposed to simply overlook Snape's crimes? All because, what? He felt bad? For Merlin's sake, he was going to be an Auror; he'd spend four years re-learning how to _never_ let go, to pursue regardless of how hot the chase became, and to take any opportunity that was afforded to him.

But that wasn't the reason he hated Snape. He certainly knew everything the Death Eaters did was wrong. But not many Death Eaters lit a fever in his bones like Snape did. No, James knew why he had a particular hatred for Snape, and it was high time that he put this silly school feud past them. Severus Snape certainly had. In the past few weeks, he had bent his pride and begged at the feet of his worst tormentor. James Potter was no longer that bully; he had been given a second chance, and he would not be ungrateful.

If Severus Snape had found the light, then who was he to deny him a second chance?

That didn't mean that after everything was over, Snape's crimes would be overlooked. No, justice was coming for everyone. But he could be civil to the man. And respectful. He owed the spy that much.

Stepping through the portkey, he came up to Godric's Hollow. He sighed, forcing a smile on his face. Yes, it was long time to put this stupid feud behind them. Lilly would probably snort and mutter something about men being five years too slow. Chuckling, he entered his home.

_Something_ was wrong; that much was clear, but James couldn't figure out what had happened. Everything was in place. In fact, the place seemed _too_ clean. Voices came from the nursery, and his fraying nerves were put at ease. Life. The worst hadn't happened.

"Sev. Sev."

Lilly's voice. A bit breathy, perhaps, but jealousy was so far removed from the realm of possibility for James that he simply kept trudging upstairs. Good, Snape was here. It was time to end this right here. He'd shake the man's hand, tell him that it was good he'd joined their cause, and he was glad to have all the help he could receive. He'd apologize for the way he treated the man during Hogwarts, and that would be the end of it.

James opened the door.

Severus Snape lay dead next to Harry's crib.

* * *

I realize this is a rather short chapter, but I just wanted to put something in James' POV. Too many of these stories alter between Severus-bashing or James-bashing, and I like to believe the reality is more complicated than that. Anyways, that's that.


	9. Chapter 8: The Boy Who Lived

Okay, part 2 of the same update. Maybe I'll do more than once chapter a week; at the current pace it'll take more than a year just to finish the first book.

The good news, is that after this it's all new, original non-happened-in-the-books material! Final chapter of the long recap.

Thank you all for bearing with me. But as this is entirely AU, the James in my story is not the James in the books, so I really wanted to firmly establish the character roles and the relationships between the characters.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: The Boy Who Lived**

There was no blood on Snape's body. James was familiar enough with the Killing Curse; he didn't bother to examine the body. Instead, his Order instincts were kicking in. He _had_ to ignore that this was his family. If his emotions got in the way now, there would never be an end.

_The children_.

Yes, of course. The children. The children before everything – even Lilly.

Harry was asleep; it was as if nothing had happened. The tiny bib rolled with Harry's small breaths, and relief flooded into James. The boy seemed exhausted, and he'd been clutching his thumb, but all things considered he was fine. But even as respite washed over him, James waded further. He had no time for relief; not now. So much was still uncertain.

Nathan was awake, and by the dried tears, he'd been crying for some time.

"Hey Nathan," James whispered, stroking his child's head.

Recognition lit the child's eyes, and his gums showed as Nathan squealed in excitement.

But James had no time. "No, Nathan. No Quidditch tonight. We'll fly tomorrow." _And every night after that, I promise_. At last, he turned his attention to his wife. She was splayed out onto the floor, and breath came shallow. James counted two broken ribs, maybe three. Blood streaked down her face where her scalp had faced off with the wall, and by the looks of her the wall had won.

With some basic medical magic, James managed to stop the pain.

"James," Lilly gasped.

"Shhh. I've numbed the pain, but if you make serious movements, you'll tear your internal organs and not even feel it. Everyone is okay. We are all alive."

Lilly didn't fight him. "Bed," she moaned.

"Yes, let's get you to bed."

Lilly's eyes swelled with anxiety in that way where she thought no one else understood. James did; he felt it, too. "You're sleeping in this room, tonight. We all are. We're all staying in this room for the next two days." He almost barked the order, but he could feel Lilly relaxing with every word. With a snap, the room became larger, and Lilly's bed floated into view. He placed her bed next to Nathan's crib, and levitated her body gently into the sheets.

"Everyone's okay," he whispered. A kiss on her cheeks. "I'm going to call Dumbledore."

She didn't even nod.

His numbing spell evidently wasn't as effective as he thought. "Expecto – "

A large phoenix burst into the room with a soothing light. "Lilly, I am on my way. Stay alive." Dumbledore's familiar tones echoed through the now-larger nursery, and James stilled. Usually, it didn't take the man longer than a minute to arrive anywhere he wished.

And soon enough, Dumbledore drifted through the room with the most morose expression James had ever seen on the man. Any hint of the twinkles that normally danced in his irises seemed to be asleep. He went to Harry first, and his hands started to glow.

"Of course, Poppy will take a look tomorrow morning. But, for the moment, the boy is unharmed." And then a frown.

James' nerves couldn't handle anymore. The adrenaline was finally fading, and exhaustion was creeping in. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing that should harm the boy. It seems that Severus has made Harry his heir."

James' fists clenched. "After all that? After everything, he takes our eldest for his _own_?"

"Wouldn't. Hurt. Harry." Lilly's voice strained through her chest and barely fell on James' ears. He didn't even realize she was still awake. Her head turned on the pillow to face him. Color seemed to have flowed back to her face.

"Lilly, you should rest." He softened his voice.

Her eyes delivered the message her voice couldn't. "James Potter, if you think for one moment I'm not going to find out what happened to my babies, then – " It rang in his head, clear as day.

She couldn't turn to face Dumbledore, but James had no doubt that her attention would be on his soft tone.

"It may not have been for the reasons you believe, James." Dumbledore now. "In the weeks before today, Severus had been researching a counter charm. It is possible that Severus believes… believed, that it was necessary for the spell."

"And this spell," James croaked. "This spell worked?"

Dumbledore smiled, but it was mirthless. "It certainly seems so." Combing Harry's hair once, Dumbledore moved to Nathan's crib. Dumbledore's hands paused a short distance above Nathan's scar. "Yes, the magic still lingers, even now." It was a mutter, likely only for himself, but James' ears reached and barely picked it up.

"Voldemort's magic?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes. Magical scars are unlike ordinary ones in many ways. This will not be healed. Nathan will forever be connected to Lord Voldemort through this scar." The familiar light enveloped his hand once more. "Nathan is well. As well as he can be, for such a night as this."

"What happened?"

"It is too early to say, James. As of now, I can only postulate."

"Your guesses are better than most." James mumbled grumpily.

Dumbledore gave a sad smile. "I believe that Voldemort's killing curse was reflected back at himself. The magic here suffuses the entire house, and it's very likely that a counter-charm was used in order to prevent the intended outcome."

"Voldemort was hit with his own killing curse," James repeated. He needed to hear it said aloud a few more times to process it. _How_ was such a thing possible? "So, Snape's counter-charm?"

Dumbledore moved to Lilly, and his hands resumed the glow.

"I cannot be certain. It is very old magic, and Severus had poured through nearly half of the Ministry's archives. Even in the end, he didn't seem entirely certain. But, for now, it looks like his hunch was correct. We will study the curse at length once all of us recover from this terrible ordeal. I'm afraid news of this has spread rather quickly."

Now he went to fetch his wand. Lilly's body began to jerk, and just as the writhing grew violent, three distinct snaps settled her.

"That should hold the ribs, at least until Poppy gets in."

The faint buzzing of Dumbledore's words had been sliding past James ever since the school headmaster began healing Lilly. Only now the meanings came to him, and his whipped up with awareness. "The Ministry? They know?"

"But of course, my boy. The Boy Who Lived, they're calling young Nathan. The only known survivor of the Killing Curse. The Death Eaters are fleeing, and the Aurors are rapidly advancing. At last, people are beginning to celebrate." He smiled, exhausted. "Rest with your family, James. There will be plenty to do in the coming days."

Lilly was already asleep. It _was_ an exhausting day. He climbed into bed next to her, pecked her on the cheek, and fell into a sweet sleep. Voldemort was defeated. All was well. Better than it had been in over a decade. Smiling, he fell into a lumbering sleep.

Awareness sank into James with a slow, ever-increasing presence. He fought the tide, trying to swim back to the safety of his dreams. His sweet dreams where Voldemort had never existed, and… He couldn't remember what his dreams had been about. They drifted past his grasp as consciousness held, and they James sighed. He was awake now. No going back.

The smell of sweat filled his nostrils. And blood.

Last night's events flooded back, and his eyes sprang into action. _Lilly_. _Nathan!_ He was about to bounce out of bed when he realized something was holding him back. A hand, to be precise.

"Shhh. Shh, my love."

Her breath was rank, and her body reeked of sweat and dried blood. But at that moment James breathed as much of it in as his lungs could hold. Lilly's breath. Lilly's _life_. And as her essence filled him, he sank back down. Yes, everything had been alright. He'd forgotten about that. Everything was alright.

Her soft lips met his forehead. "Shh, my love. Everything's alright."

"Your ribs? Madam Pomfrey?"

She smiled. "Was here five hours ago. You were asleep, and we didn't want to wake you. I'm fine. The boys are fine. And you're fine. We're all _fine_."

Good. Good. And just like that, all self-control was gone. His arms pulled her towards him, and her breast crashed into his own as their lips met. A soft groan rumbled its way through Lilly's lips, through his own, and reached his own heart. Fluttering with need, he deepened it, only to have her reciprocate. They were disgusting and in many ways they were broken, but in that moment, she had never been more beautiful. In that moment she was everything.

He hadn't realized he'd been crying until Lilly kissed his cheek and stroked his hair. The soft curling she did against his temples was routine by now, and he wouldn't have been surprised if it'd be the _only_ thing that would calm him down.

"So close. So close to losing you. You all." He couldn't finish the words.

She sat up, pulling his head into her lap and cajoling him with soft whispers. They rocked each other for what seemed like mere seconds when a familiar hiccup interrupted them. A hiccup that would soon turn to a cry, James knew.

The instincts were well set by now. Both parents were on their feet; Lilly had already taken hold of Harry and James had Nathan on his hip. The family moved to the kitchen, only to discover Sirius and Remus already inside, with Dumbledore at their side.

"You must understand the severity of what has happened," Dumbledore was saying. "Ah, James, Lilly. Welcome. Remus, Sirius – I trust you will inform them of what I have told you." Dumbledore stood to leave.

"You're leaving? Already?"

"I'm afraid I must dissuade the Ministry of some rather strange notions of my being Minister," he said most gravely.

That produced a series of surprised blinks.

"Minister! That's brilliant." Sirius was the first to recover. "We'll all support you. With the Order and everything else, you're a shoe-in!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "More evidence that the task will not be so simple," he said sadly. A more fervent shake of his head. "No, I'm quite satisfied at Hogwarts." And he was out the door before anyone could get another word in.

James was awakened from his dazzled stupor by Remus lifting Nathan into his own arms. Indeed, before either he or Lilly knew what was what, he had both twins, one bottle in each mouth, cradled on either arm.

"Now, what Dumbledore said can wait. Both of you go wash up; you look like me after one of my nightly escapades. Go on, now!"

"Honestly, Moony. Sometimes I wonder who's the parent here," James chuckled.

Moony seemed to be taking his parental responsibilities quite seriously. "There's never really been a need to wonder," Remus stiffened. "I've always been the parent here." It was only half a joke.

Lilly squeaked as he stuffed both of them into the bathroom.

"_Both_ of us?"

Remus shut the door, but the muffled voice came through just fine. "You're bloody well _married_, aren't you? I doubt you'll find any surprises!" And the footsteps descended back to the kitchen.

James laughed and kissed his wife, already disrobing. "He's wrong about one thing you know."

Lilly smiled into another kiss. "And what's that?"

"You _always_ surprise me, even to this day."

The shower was… _nice_. Yes, quite nice, in fact. In between his Order of the Phoenix duties, parenting two new-born twins, and the general chaos of wartime, he and Lilly hadn't had time alone in quite some time. And with Sirius and Remus… well, with _Remus_ watching over Harry and Nathan, both of them finally had the peace of mind to just leave everything else for a while. Merlin, they bathed for the better part of an hour, but when they emerged, neither Sirius nor Remus said a word.

They arrived to find both boys happily playing with some illusions Sirius had enchanted, and Remus calmly reading the Prophet. "Well, between the two of you, we're hardly needed at all," James smiled.

Lilly playfully patted him on the shoulder and began preparing breakfast when Sirius interrupted.

"Don't bother." He snapped his fingers and Kreacher appeared, grumpy as ever. "Breakfast, Kreacher."

The normally disobedient house elf that James had grown to despise stiffened and, to everyone's shock, began preparing a meal. He eyed Sirius questioningly, but his best friend merely gave him a toothy grin in return.

"We had a long talk," he finished, as if that explained everything.

In James' experience, 'long talks' didn't change much for house elves. But he put it out of his mind. Instead, he began with Dumbledore. "What did Dumbledore have to say?"

Sirius shrugged. "News to keep you both in the loop. Death Eaters are on the run everywhere; the Ministry has already made several huge captures. The Lestranges still evade us, but every day more and more show up. Turns out, they hate each other almost as much as they hate us, and without their precious Voldemort, the whole thing fell apart.

"Sure, plenty are trying to escape and going into hiding, and even more are claiming they were under the Imperius Curse, but there's no doubt about it. The tide has turned. Massively. Voldemort is nowhere to be found, and Dumbledore thinks it'll take him decades to recover from this."

"But he will be back," Lilly murmured.

"Yes," Sirius sighed. "He will be back. It seems Sni – Snape was right. Voldemort has found out some method by which he can evade death. In the meantime, Remus and I will be taking turns helping you both get settled."

"Get settled?"

"Just in case you need some things," Remus put tentatively. "The Auror office shouldn't bother either of you, but still, in case you need some help."

"The Auror office." He'd forgotten all about that. He and Sirius had filed applications shortly after graduation, but they had both realized that the Order was far more effective than the Aurors could ever be. And with that, they'd never bothered to get initiated. Because of wartime measures, the Ministry had even waived the standard three-years of schooling and training. James frowned. He had a sneaking suspicion that, with Voldemort gone, that was no longer the case. Still, they were holding something back. He looked to Lilly, but she, too, was staring mysteriously at her shoes. "What are you saying?"

"Listen, Mate," Serious began.

What was he missing? That tone was entirely too suspicious. In all the chaos, James had forgotten something. And it was pressing against his mind, on the brink. Something Dumbledore and _everyone else_ in this room hadn't. What was it?

"We need to keep your family safe, you understand. Not just about the prophecy, mind. They're hailing Nathan as the Boy Who Lived. Just coming _in_ here was a pain. The press, hundreds of wizards, everyone hailing you all with praises. If it wasn't for Dumbledore's charms, you wouldn't have slept a wink, believe me."

"So we stay in hiding?" James glowered.

"Not exactly. We do expect you both to take up jobs in the near future, but…" Remus began delicately, but seemed to lack the strength to go on.

"Well, Dumbledore had to place another Fidelius Charm." Sirius blurted. He shrugged at Remus and mumbled something about "best to just say it out right."

And then it hit him. "Pettigrew!" The name poisoned his tongue. He felt like he needed to wash his house clean. As if Harry and Nathan should have never heard that word. That _rat_. That bloody, filthy. When he got his hands on him, _Wormtail_ would –

"You will be staying in your home for the next week." Remus said ever so calmly, but James noticed that the newspaper was now tucked away. "You and Lilly both."

"They're sending others after the man that almost killed my family? They're sending someone _else_?" James looked to Sirius, but his best friend couldn't meet his eye.

"Sorry, mate. Ministry placed me and Moony basically under house arrest, too. Said we were too close to you. We're allowed to help you about, but that's about it."

"And how will they catch a _rat_, Moony?" James snarled.

"James." Lilly's voice.

He turned to look at her, but she held the boys tightly.

Their eyes were wide, as if seeing him for the first time. Their playful illusions were ignored, and both backed into Lilly as if something could happen. Like he was _dangerous_. His stomach ached.

Forcibly, he moderated his voice. "How will they catch an Animagus?" he whispered.

"Snape figured out Peter's status before last night," Remus explained. "It's how he and Dumbledore were able to arrive so quickly. They realized the attack was for tonight, instead of tomorrow as planned. Evidently, Peter realized you were out of the house, and they expedited their plans."

"Alastor's on the case personally," Sirius placated. "Says he'll find him within the week."

"Even if he doesn't, Peter Pettigrew will have to live out the rest of his life as a rat." Remus added. "A fitting punishment. Our darkest times are over." James knew Remus well enough to know what he was really suggesting. _Do not succumb to the darkness now that we are in the light at last_.

"Dumbledore cast the Fidelius this morning, when Madam Pomfrey came in. Sirius is our keeper."

Sirius beamed. "I _will_ die before I give it up," he said gravely.

James was in no mood. He knew Sirius would, and he needed no reassurances. With Voldemort gone, any satisfaction those assurances would have given melted away. James Potter wanted revenge, plain and simple. And it was being cast away from him – "for his own good."

_Can't catch every Snitch_. His father's words bounced in his head, and he sighed. It was true. He had plenty to be thankful for. His family was alive, and he had one week off from life. Things could have been worse, and it was time to stop acting like an ungrateful prick.

They were the family that lived.

* * *

Some people have private messaged me to let me know that there's not enough tension in the story. And they're right.

This has been a slow buildup to what's meant to be a really long story, and I wanted to do more of the character development than anything else here. But all of you are right; I should have found a way to do both simultaneously. I'm going to do a better job of building tension by exploiting many of the hints I've already put into the stories.


	10. Chapter 9: What Might Never Be

Okay, so I'm a week late. But I'm doing the same thing as last time where I'll release two weeks' chapters on the same day to make it up to you!

* * *

**Chapter Nine: What Might Never Be**

"His body is processing the dramatic changes, and such… upheavals are the least of what are to be expected."

James' eyes lidded as the Healer's words washed off of him. His ears registered a series of slurred buzzings rather than separate words, and together the sounds melded into the most welcome lullaby. Right until the sharp pain of Lilly's elbow brought him back.

Forty-eight hours. Two days of nonstop crying, and only sleeping when Harry himself was too exhausted to cry. Nathan, on the other hand, was blessedly asleep as if nothing had ever happened. Sirius had generously volunteered to take care of the younger twin until Harry got better.

_If_ Harry got better, James reminded himself. He didn't need to listen to the ramblings of an old Healer to get the general idea. Harry's brain had to take its time to adapt to the new situation. It was already a new brain, just learning to live at that, and now it had all these extra memories and skills locked away somewhere. He ground his teeth. There was a _reason_ it was only used on adults.

"So there's nothing you can do?" Lilly's desperation came through.

"He's too young for the pods, and the calming droughts really shouldn't be used on anyone under four years of age. For now, I'd recommend keeping him in calm environments and limiting physical activity."

James didn't have to look to know Lilly was doing that thing where she was trying to blink back her anger. "What physical activity? He can't even walk yet."

"Yes, something to keep in mind for the future I suppose."

James tried to keep back a snort, but he was too exhausted. Academic answers so typical of Healers. They were fascinated by Harry; some of them even demanded they bring in Nathan for an inspection, and had Dumbledore not assured them personally of Nathan's well-being, perhaps they would have. But these people thought of Harry as a spectacle.

"When will these effects wear off?"

The Healer looked up from the parchment for the first time. "Wear off? I'm not sure that it will."

"_What_?"

"Madam, I think you underestimate the severity of this condition. I'm not suggesting temporary measures of reprieve for the young boy because he's likely to be bedridden most of his life. The process of incorporating these stimuli will likely be extremely violent. He'll have seizures, bouts of fainting spells, and quite possibly even heart palpitations when confronted by what he sees as his dual realities." The Healer returned to probing Harry's mind with his wand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

James looked to his wife. Any modicum of sleep was now long gone. His firstborn son would never leave the house? His firstborn son might never attend Hogwarts. His firstborn son would never play _Quidditch_.

Lilly sagged.

He tried to focus but the world was spinning so fast. "So what can we do in the meantime?"

The Healer's eyes were still closed, examining Harry's mind gently.

"Healer," James squeezed the man's arm. "What can we do in the meantime?"

The Healer simply shrugged it off. "Well I can't very well say right now, can I?"

James' brows narrowed. "You're probably be slightly more useful than hippogriff shit if you actually bothered to _look_ at my son rather than treating him like an academic curiosity." He didn't bother to look over at Lilly. He didn't care. He was so _tired_ of this nonsense.

The Healer put his chart down and placed plump fists on his hips. "Well, Mr. Potter. You've dumped onto me a case that no one has seen in over six hundred years – a case that, by all accounts, should not have even happened. In addition to that, he's been touched by the magic that killed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself. And in two hours, you want me to find a _cure_?"

Lilly gave James an exhausted "you pick _now_ to do this?" glare.

"Now," the Healer continued, turning to Lilly. "I've booked Harry for appointments every other day. These _will_ be lengthy. We need to understand the short and long-term effects of these treatments. Hopefully, in a couple years, we'll find a cure for young Harry."

A couple _years_.

"And an Order of Merlin award for myself in advancements in magics of the mind."

James wanted to strangle the man.

Three hours later, Remus and Sirius had left, leaving James and Lilly with the kids. They wouldn't be gone long, thankfully. The house was a little too quiet. He _knew_ of course, that there were no Death Eaters. That would be ridiculous. Only, why was the house so quiet? As much as Harry's cries were a bother, at least they kept the quiet away.

"James." Lilly's voice rippled through the silence. "We have to talk about the costs."

"Lilly, relax. We have my inheritance."

"For how long, James? I've done the maths. Besides, what are we going to do, sit around here all day?"

"We do have to get jobs at some point," James conceded, partly to break the silence. "Not that we need the money, it's just…"

"The war is finally over, and we need to get jobs." Lilly finished for him.

He smiled. "Yes." That eerie silence descended on them again, surrounding them in preparation for ambush. _Too quiet_. "Maybe I will resume the old Auror application. I can't imagine doing much else besides dueling anyways."

She frowned. "James… it was just _yesterday_."

She let the rest go unsaid. _It was just yesterday that you almost died_. He sighed. He understood, and he didn't really mean it. It was just… Didn't the quiet bother her?

"Let's not talk about becoming Aurors or risking our lives. Frankly, I've had enough excitement for a lifetime. Can't we just… Can't we just become a normal family?"

James stared at her; she was currently using wandless magic to provide illusions to the boys. Nathan, a boy of several months who was currently the most famous person in all of magical England, possibly the magical world, was happily entertaining whatever movies Lilly had put on with her charms. A normal family. He shivered. The quiet was back. It was always back.

Thankfully, Harry's cries caused it to retreat.

James didn't move to ease the boy.

But as the days went by, the Potter family seemed to settle into a routine – in name, at least, even if their temperament hadn't altered one iota. The family still slept all in the same room, and both parents refused to let the children out of their sight unless the other was present to watch over. Even Sirius and Remus were not sufficient, though either one or both made themselves available nearly every day – and Sirius often _refused_ to leave, electing to sleep in the Potter household on some nights. James, of course, would never kick out his best friend, so the onerous task often fell on Lilly. Kreacher, for his part, was doing nearly all of the chores.

"Go home, Sirius." Lilly's voice was unusually curt. "And take that house elf with you, please."

Sirius shrugged. He snapped his fingers, and the elf was gone. Grabbing his coat, he stomped off to the door.

James gave his best friend a sympathetic sigh. It was the fifth day in a row that Lilly and Sirius had gotten into an argument – well, that Lilly had gotten upset with Sirius. And each time, Sirius simply shrugged it off and left.

The door slammed.

"He'll be back tomorrow," Lilly grunted. Her left hand seemed to be permanently glued to her hip these days.

And it was true enough. Each day, Sirius came back in the morning as if nothing had occurred the previous night.

"I want him to go _home_, James. I mean it. He's not coming near my children with his eyes that red, stinking up the whole house with firewhisky. This is not a pub! And if he can't behave, then he doesn't get to stay."

"He's trying to help," James murmured.

Lilly softened at that. "I know, but… These past few nights it's like he really does want to stay here. I can't… James, we need our space. I'm grateful, but…" She paused. "I'm sorry."

James blinked. "Honey, it's Sirius. He'll be fine."

"I just… I wanted a little privacy for just a bit. I know he's trying to help – I know he means well it's just…"

"We need some privacy."

Relief flooded her face. "Yes."

It _had_ been much. With Sirius and Remus and Kreacher constantly going in and out, their cozy house had somehow become crowded. The company that they had so often sought suddenly became claustrophobic. And somewhere in that week, the threat of the silence had retreated permanently. In fact, with the bustling house, the threat of silence seemed almost _laughable_ at this point.

"Do you think he feels unappreciated?"

"_Sirius_? Lilly, he's my best friend. I trust no one more than him. Honey, he's our secret keeper."

"I know, James. But why do you think he's been here so often? He _sleeps_ here, James. It's because he cares. Because he's worried. Because we almost died. He's done more to help than anyone, and at the end of the day, we just send him out like he's a servant. I don't like it."

He thought about it. Maybe she _was_ right. Maybe he was so close to Sirius, he couldn't even see his best friend's pain.

She smiled. "I'm so glad you understand."

"Family first," he smiled. _And Sirius is my brother... He's always been my brother._ And he'd find out what was wrong.

But the next two days didn't get better. Although Sirius didn't smell quite like firewhisky, he certainly seemed tipsy enough. A simple charm to hide the smell wasn't good enough for Lilly. And worse, he smelled of perfume.

Lilly promptly kicked him out, vowing that if he ever wanted to see Harry or Nathan, he'd have to act like an adult. _That_ certainly made him shape up, but the red in Sirius' eyes never dimmed. He stayed through the nights at the Potter mansion, and at times it seemed the children were the only thing keeping him together.

Between the four adults doting on the twins constantly and James and Lilly having a week off, Peter Pettigrew slipped from their minds. But inevitably, the week would end. Lilly ended up deciding that, in order for them to ever return to normal, they would simply have to go back to the way things used to be. Under the Fidelius Charm and all the other wards Dumbledore had placed, there was simply no place safer.

James wasn't sure. Pettigrew still nagged in his mind, and each day that passed was just one more day that Pettigrew evaded all authorities. All the Marauders had informed the ministry in length, of course, of Peter's habits, his exact description as a rat (though how he, a second-rate student mastered this was carefully glossed over,) and even his favorite locations.

All to no avail.

James eyed Sirius suspiciously. His best man was sprawled out on his sofa asleep. _I swear he's become completely nocturnal._ Something was definitely wrong, but of course Sirius would never admit it to James. Still, there had to be _something_ to get the man off his feet.

"I think it's time I start work," James announced on the tenth day since their reprieve. "We can't lay on my parent's nest egg forever," he mumbled, knowing full well it was just an excuse. He glanced over at Lilly, but she almost instinctively turned around, snatched dishes from Kreacher, and began washing them by hand.

This was not a good sign.

"What do you think, Lills?"

"If you decide that's for the best," she said all too cheerfully.

"Maybe in another week, then?" James ventured.

She twirled around and almost sneered. Somehow, she morphed it into a sarcastic smile. "No, you really should go to work. After all, we're only just your _family_."

His pride could only take so much. "And I was never get a job? We'd just spend the rest of our lives at home?"

"Oh stop being so thick, James Potter!"

There it was. The full name. He was in deep hippogriff shit now.

"We both know the reason you're going there is so you can pursue this _ridiculous_ revenge scheme."

Aah, there it was. He wasn't sure when he'd learn to stop trying to hide things from her or outwit her, but he was sure it would be any day now. After all, a man could only be bested so many times before he stopped playing the game. Right?

"I swear, James Potter. Sometimes you're the bravest, most selfless man I've ever met, but right now you're behaving _so_… _so_…" She didn't finish her words, but she glared at Sirius with the full force of blame. "I swear it's a wonder you even manage to get your coat on in the morning!"

Her face was furious enough to match her hair, and she was entirely in the right. But an angry Lilly was one of the cutest things in James' world, and he wasn't going to let it go. Maybe that's why he intentionally did things to make her angry? He wasn't sure. Smirking, he twirled her into his arms and kissed her. Even as she tried to struggle and pull away, kicking and shoving, he pushed deeper. Finally, her protest was smothered away by his own lips, and he pulled away.

"I swear to you, Lilly Evans Potter, that I will explicitly request _not_ to be put on the hunt for any Death Eaters, least of all Peter. I will ask to be put on a desk job until Peter is caught, on the grounds that I am far too emotionally compromised on this case."

Another kiss.

She gave him a sidelong glance, refusing to meet him full on. "You promise?"

"I do. In fact, I promise Sirius and I will _both_ request the full three year probationary training program. No field experience."

She turned in his arms now and her hazel gaze bored into his soul. "Let me see your fingers," she said with full seriousness.

He laughed and showed her his uncrossed fingers. "I promise." Lilly and her Muggle traditions.

She sighed. "Why do you always do this to me?"

He had won. He soothed her with a few more kisses on her cheek, a quick nip at her earlobe, and perhaps one final one on her lips – okay, just one more on –

"Okay, okay! You can go."

James smiled. "Sirius!" He called and snorted as his friend jumped into waking. "Let's go to work!"

Sirius gave him a grin. "About damn time."

"I'll be back by five." A quick kiss on her cheek.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

He gave Sirius a flashy smile. "Ready to give them hell, mate?"

There was a fire in Sirius' eyes. "He'll never know what hit him."

James laughed. "Who?"

Sirius chuckled. "You know, the proverbial _he_."

* * *

Alright, since I'm going to put up another chapter in less than a day, I won't say anything more. See you again soon!


	11. Chapter 10: The Taste of Victory

Okay I'm back!

This chapter is going to be a little shorter, since the next one is going to be very long, and I just had trouble drawing boundaries for when certain chapters should end and others should begin. I think breaking here is best though.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: The Taste of Victory**

He stared at the pub through bloodshot eyes. The firewhisky was useless now. Two weeks of drinking, and it seemed his body had adjusted a little too well.

"But, _Sirius_," the girls pouted.

He needed to leave. Enough with the fake pouting, the one-night cum dumpsters, the senseless alcohol. None of it mattered. With a crack, Sirius disapparated.

The '2' was worn-out, and the '1' was almost certainly about to fall off, but the Black ancestral home seemed to be hanging on with a renewed vitality.

He hadn't been inside in years, of course. Not since he'd been disowned. But something had changed ten days ago. Sirius could feel it, even if he didn't want to accept it. He felt it in his bones ever since the knowledge of the mansion seeped into his consciousness once more. Ever since Kreacher started to obey him, even if only as a last resort.

The door creaked open, and Sirius stared at the pristine internals. Not a speck of dust coated any of the ornate mantelpieces, and the portraits had been freshly cleaned. The walls had been given a new coat of paint – a new Slytherin green that, if he knew Kreacher, would never dull. Kreacher had been busy, it seemed.

All the better. He didn't want to deal with some nuisance of a house elf. He tossed his clothes on the sofa, ignored his mother's portrait complaining about his lack of manners and what a disappointment he was, and put his feet up on the table.

He wouldn't stoop to speaking to a portrait, of course; no, he was stronger than that. Still, he couldn't help but chuckle as his mind drifted to what his mother would say if she ever found him here. As it turned out, his mother's portrait supplied him with more than a vague idea. With her ramblings, he hardly had to imagine at all, but as time wore on, his brain learned to tune her out.

He saw Regulus' Head Boy trophy still sparkling next to the fire place.

"You just had to go and get yourself killed, didn't you, Regulus." Sirius dropped the well-worn smirk at last, but it was like wearing a sock for too long. His skin seemed to have taken it on permanently, and his face didn't know what other expression to make. His muscles ached in the recent weeks. He'd done more smiling in the past eight days than he'd done in his entire life, he was sure. He groaned; his head was still pounding.

"You were always soft, younger brother." Sirius spoke to the trophy. He was in the Black manor, after all. What safer place to be when revealing your madness? "Soft, and the pride of our house. You remember?

"You were always so slow to anger. So calm and reserved, except when it came to people you cared for." A laugh trickled out of his throat. "God, you were so bloody loyal I thought for sure you'd be a Puff." He sighed, pulling his sweat-soaked hair back. "No, but of course not. You couldn't disappoint Mother and Father. Salazaar forbid they have _two_ failures for children."

Walburga Black's portrait snorted loudly, but Sirius ignored it.

"I confess I hated our family, probably from the day I was born. I couldn't _stand_ how they all pranced around like royalty. And you, when I saw everything they made you do, it made my blood boil. Grown adults just pouring their sludge into you, molding you into one of _them_. And you didn't know any better. You were too young to tell their vomit from the truth. But I wasn't. I wasn't."

A mad laugh escaped his lips. "Look, I know we haven't spoken in years, but this is simply no way to treat your big brother. Come on, Reg', at least have the decency to respond!"

Kreacher's repetitive dusting of the floorboards was the only sound in the house.

"You're right. I haven't said anything yet. Look, you have to understand this is difficult for me. I…" He took a deep breath. Did that bloody house elf _have_ to dust the floor right now? He pushed it out of his mind. "I'm sorry I didn't do more to stop them. I'm sorry I wasn't a better brother. I'm sorry you didn't find out until it was too late."

Silence.

Even the accursed cleaning had stopped.

The portraits didn't make a sound.

Just… Raw silence.

"Kreacher didn't tell me, of course. I think you made him promise not to. You were always foolish and brave like that. I know you always thought I didn't know. What you did to protect me from Mum, I mean. I knew. I didn't want to say anything because if she found out… If she found out you'd helped me, well…" The words wouldn't come.

"It wasn't hard to piece together. I was on interrogation duty last week, and I got to interview some of your… colleagues. Those bastards just couldn't handle it that you were about to leave them, could they? I gotta say, Reg… They're a nasty lot. I… I should have done more to make sure you _never_ got involved with them. I should have been a better brother."

Somehow, _somehow_, Regulus had always protected him, instead of the other way around. He cleared his throat. "Well, that's enough madness for one day, I think. Look, Regulus. I… I hope you found peace, in the end. I love you, little brother. Always will."

Silence.

A mansion, all to himself. His six-year old self would have been ecstatic.

His hand tightened around his wand as he raised it to the ceiling. A faint light emanated from the tip. "I'm afraid this will be the last time we speak. You were the best brother a man could have asked for. Rest in peace, Regulus Arcturus Black. You are now of the ages."

Kreacher, evidently, had come downstairs.

The two stared wordlessly at each other. Sirius dared him to say a comment. But the elf merely drooped its ears, conjured a rose, and floated it beside the trophy.

"Kreacher will _never_ have a better master." The voice came hoarsely. With that the elf backed away.

"A credit to his blood. A fighter to the end of his days. Regulus Arcturus Black was a man who inspired confidence and blazed in glory. Regulus," the voice hitched. The portrait of the Black monarch wiped a tear. "My _son_ does credit to his family. Rest in peace, Regulus Arcturus Black."

And with that, Sirius sank back into the sofa.

The house mourned in silence for Regulus. The brightest star in the Black family in generations winked out of existence far too early. And now?

His father's prized collection taunted him. _Thought you were so much better than me, eh boy? Look at you now!_ So many years gone, and Sirius was still driven by his father. And why not? The Black patriarch was stamped all over this house.

The bottle of firewhisky crashed against the wall, but none of the portraits howled. Kreacher didn't even come to pick up the mess. He unscrewed another bottle, giving the walls a mad laugh. "That's right, Pa! You win. Take a good look at the triumph of the House of Black. This is what victory tastes like." He took another swig.

Damn if that man didn't have an excellent taste for alcohol.

* * *

So the divisions from canon obviously get larger and larger as my universe starts to separate. I do think that this particular aspect could be possible. I like to think of Regulus as a boy who wanted to make his parents proud but got caught up with the wrong crowd, and by that time it was too late. Of course, canon Sirius would probably be in Azkaban by now, if not very soon. Ah, well. :)

Until next time!


	12. Chapter 11: Listen Up, Probie!

Okay, so I know I've been out for over a month without any new publishes. *cringe*

All I can say is that life caught up to me; between a car accident, and changing jobs, it was a little crazy and I just kind of forgot to publish.

But I'm back! And the good news is that I have all four chapters that I owe you, and a fifth one in another four days (on Friday). So hopefully you all forgive me.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Listen Up, Probie!**

Where in the bloody hells was Padfoot? He missed registration, didn't show up to sign into any of the electives, and now he was missing the famous opening speech.

"Listen up, probies!" A sharp yet raspy voice whipped through the air.

Fourteen terrified students sat alongside James Potter in a dark and dingy room. This was to be their graduating class, of which likely only five or six would actually become full-fledged Aurors in the five-years it took. But of course, the sixteenth student was currently absent.

Sirius Black was Merlin-knew-where, doing Merlin-knew-what.

Once upon a time, James would have laughed and joined in. It made sense. Classes were such nonsense. And so bloody easy. And what was the point of it all? But becoming an Auror was different. And Sirius of all people should have known that.

He stared at his schedule once more.

_Year One_

_Your first year will not have specialization. Since all Aurors are required to have a basic modicum of aptitude in all aspects of fieldwork, we will have a generalized sampling of all the subjects._

_1 – Concealment and Disguise – Level 2, Room 7_

_2 – Stealth and Tracking – Level 2, Room 38_

_3 – Criminal Investigation – Level 2, Room 19_

_4 – Magical Combat – Level 2, Room 24_

_5 – Wizarding and Muggle Law – Level 2, Room 40_

_Do keep in mind that knowledge of the law is required in all years of Auror training, and it is the fundamental requisite for all Aurors. As upholders of the law, your knowledge of it must be superlative._

Sirius was probably frustrated, and James didn't blame him. The classes were supposedly quite difficult, and that was good. School had been far too easy. But there was so much… paperwork. The Ministry was a giant bureaucracy with needless hurdles and unnecessary forms. What was the point?

The red sheet in his hands seemed to burn his fingers.

_Animagus registration._

Good old Mad Eye had understood perfectly James' need to conceal his status from the Ministry during the war. But now the war was over. And now, Arthur was back in form. Auror form. A stickler for the rules.

James arrived just in time for Mad-Eye's famous induction speech. Supposedly it changed every year according with the times, and it was as famed within the Ministry as the Sorting Hat's speeches. His nose wrinkled at classic pub-stench.

"Sirius?"

Sirius gave him a weak grin. "There you are, James. Been looking all over for you. Can't miss the first day now, can we?""

James was about to whisper "Says the one who has lipstick on neck," but just then a piece of chalk whizzed by his face and hit Sirius square on the head.

"Pay attention or get out. I don't have time for the indecisive."

James mentally groaned. No doubt Mad-Eye was trying to show Sirius that he couldn't play favorites just because they were in the Order. But Sirius would take it as an offense to his pride. Mad-Eye had been kind enough to explain this to James privately, but of course Sirius hadn't been there to receive the same lesson.

Sirius shrugged and stood. "Fair enough." And without another word, he left the room.

James instinctively got up to get his best friend, but Mad-Eye fixed him with a stare. As if to say, "You, too, Potter?", the magical eye seemed to roll between Sirius' receding form and him. James bit his teeth so hard his ears seemed to pop. Taking a calming breath, he sat down.

"Most of you are here for glory. Taking down dark wizards like in the stories. Most of you grew up on tales of epic duels. Grindelwald versus Dumbledore; the greatest duel in the history of the world. The triumph of good over evil. Most of you," he paused, looking at a brunette. "Will die. Quickly, and perhaps painfully.

"Get this into your heads right now. Duels are things of stories. You were raised to believe that a duel is the best test of skills. Wrong. That the victor is the better wielder of magic. Wrong. That if you beat someone in a duel, this is an honorable victory. Wrong. Duels are capricious, ugly, and unpredictable. I've seen grown men lose to children with half their skill because of a lucky shot. I've seen wizards cut down at the start of their magical prime because of a single off-day. Your skill in a duel is not constant. You have good days and bad, same as anything else in life. And leaving your life in the hands of something as silly as a _duel_ is the most fatuous thing you can do. If you think you are going to be a hero by dueling some great dark magic practitioner, let me kill you after this lecture and save you a great deal of trouble. The Ministry doesn't have the time or energy to waste on heroes.

"_Every_ wizard can kill any other wizard. I'll say it again, just so that those of you who are thicker in the head can understand. _Anyone_ can kill anyone. The only question is how likely is that situation to end in your demise? As an Auror, your job is to minimize that risk as much as possible. We rely on ambushes, group tactics, and defensive magic to shield each other from certain death. We follow all the rules that the dark wizards break, and there is no glory in it.

"Now get out."

As James hesitantly left the room, he couldn't help but think of the toll the war must have taken on Moody. The man was usually paranoid and morose, yes, but that was… Well, perhaps that was reality as he saw it. Sighing, he left to find a Sirius that was by all accounts likely drunk off his ass by now.

* * *

I know most of you will probably believe that this chapter isn't that important, but beyond the obvious hints of Sirius and James' relationship evolving, it shows the larger bureaucracy of the Ministry at work. I needed to set up some more important hints regarding Moody and other things, so I felt this chapter was necessary.


	13. Chapter 12: Good Bye, Old Friend

Since I'm uploading all four chapters on the same day, no need for welcomes / updates here.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Good Bye, Old Friend**

"Good morning, Love. Time to wake up."

James' voice crooned, but Lilly sank further into her sheets. "Lmm alnnn." The words garbled out of her sleepy mouth. No sooner had she nearly fallen back into sleep than she felt her husband's hand running along the back of her dead, downwards to her neck… Downwards through her upper back…

She tried to push those devious digits from her mind, but the tickles kept growing until she couldn't ignore them anymore. Stifling her laughs, she groaned into a grumpy wake, only to have her pout be kissed by her frustratingly cute husband.

Couldn't the man let her be grumpy for two minutes?

As if reading her mind, "No. You cannot have two more minutes. Come on, let's go. Today will be a long day."

The sobriety kicked in soon enough. That's right, today was the day.

So many people were killed in the war, and for many of them, they had no one to mourn them. The Ministry had compiled a long list, and in honor of the dead, they were holding a collective funeral on behalf of them all. She had been the one to suggest they go, out of courtesy to all those who were casualties.

But there was one grave in particular to which she wanted to pay respects.

She groaned, cracking her back as she stood. Had motherhood really aged her so? Slipper her robes off, Lilly Evans stepped into the bathroom to mentally prepare her for her best friend's funeral. Today was going to be a long day, indeed. But Lilly knew more than most that no magic could prepare her for a hard day like a long, hot shower. When she stepped out half an hour later, she was centered. She would face today.

An hour later, the entire Potter family was ready. Stepping into the floo, they were soon outside the walls of the Ministry of Magic.

"Lilly? Cemetery is this way."

As she followed her husband in all black, she couldn't help but stare at the numerous graves without any visitors. Most of the ones today would be empty, she knew. The Ministry was doing the deceased a favor, but by enlarge, the day was a formality. Something to be done so the wizarding world could move on without a second though. After all, who _wanted_ to remember the atrocities of this past decade?

"We're here," James whispered softly.

Lilly awoke from her thoughts. Just as she thought, except for a few scattered visitors, it was a lonely cemetery. "I suppose I'll start."

"Let's wait for the others."

Lilly's head whipped around. "Others?"

"Severus Snape is the reason my family lives. Severus Snape is the rightful ancestor to one of my children. He will have a proper funeral."

The words were filled with… something. She knew there was no love lost between the two, and yet… She squeezed her husband's hand. "Thank you."

The "others" slowly trickled in. Sirius, Remus, Moody, the Longbottoms, and even Dumbledore. Soon a large section of the Order was there. Lilly supposed everyone who had learned that Snape had discovered a counter-charm to the killing curse had come to show their respects. Thankfully, Dumbledore led the ceremony. Lilly wasn't sure she'd have much to say.

"Severus Snape led a difficult life, and it is with the deepest sorrow that we say goodbye to a friend, an ally, an extraordinary wizard, and the bravest man I have ever met. For weeks on end, Severus Snape confronted the greatest evil that wizardkind has ever known, and every day, he met his duty with unflinching bravery. He lied to one of the greatest practitioners of legilimency, gained his trust, and exposed himself – all so that he could get the Order the intelligence it needed. His efforts have saved many lives.

"And yet, it is for none of these reasons that I say that Severus Snape is the bravest man I have ever met. He has done what so few among us dare to do. He looked inside his own heart and faced his own demons. The remorse he felt when realizing what he'd done – what he'd _truly_ done, and how far astray the Death Eaters had let him… Such a remorse can only be overcome by the deepest love. I have seen many men face their own demons and take the easy way out. But not Severus. Severus faced the evils he'd committed with a strength I have never seen. He was a man who sought redemption through love. And he was a man who earned it.

"Rest in peace, Severus Snape."

A small rose floated from Dumbledore's hand to Severus' tombstone.

"At this time, I would invite any and all who have any parting words to speak."

It was a quiet, short speech. But it was genuine. Surprisingly, James was the first to step up. His words were quiet, and as much as she strained, Lilly couldn't make them out. But that determined look convinced her to let her husband have his time. After what must have been Dumbledore's speech twice over, James finally placed his rose and stepped back.

And that began the steady line of people. Sirius stepped up, placed a quick rose and mumbled an apology, before stepping away. Lilly tried to not frown at the suspicious bulge in his jacket pocket; this was a day for mourning, not chastising irresponsible adults. Besides, based on the looks Moody was giving Sirius, she suspected the old Auror would do all the disciplining that would have to be done nad more. Then the Longbottoms, then Remus. Then Moody, with his gruff and brutally honest farewell. And slowly but surely, the visitors trickled away until it was only she who remained. She and Harry. They were alone with Severus.

Suddenly, she couldn't bear to look at the grave. She coughed a tear-filled laugh and turned to look at the sky. The cloudless sky seemed to radiate a light blue happiness. Why now? Why after all the time she had taken could the words not come?

"We met on a day like today," she blurted. "We met by a tree that looks awfully similar to the one right next to you. Would you believe I picked out this spot? Had to fight them for it, but it was worth every galleon. Oh, Sev – you'd be so happy. It's the spitting image of that tree we used to play near."

The tears were in full force now.

"I miss you. I know it's only been a month, but it feels like it's been years. And it has, hasn't it? It's been years since we really talked, and now it's too late. I was a fool. I really was. I should have realized something was wrong, but I was _angry_, and prideful, and vain."

Harry wriggled in her arms.

"If you loved me, why didn't you say so!" She was almost screaming now. This was going all wrong. This was supposed to be a happy day. The day Severus was finally recognized for all the sacrifices he'd made, but she was angry enough to heat a kettle. "You can't just – you can't just call me… _what you did_," she hissed – "practice Dark Arts, join _Voldemort_, and then come back and say you love me! I mean…" she was stammering now, and she knew it. But she was too angry to stop. "I mean, just… Just who do you think you are exactly?" Another hysterical laugh. "I thank you for putting me on the exceedingly short list of witches who employed _Voldemort_ as their middle man in romance."

The gall of the man! She turned away. "And for your information, _Severus Snape_, I have a husband now – whom I love quite dearly, actually. And two children. So if you're going to apologize, it's far too late." A quieter silence. "I did figure out your counter-charm, by the way. Merlin, you were so _awful_ at charms it's a miracle you managed to figure it out at all, though did botch it didn't you? It has nothing to do with blood or inheritance, you flaming fool. It never did! Just _love_. All you needed for the counter-charm was the love you have always felt."

Anger again. She turned to yell at him, realizing a bit too late that it was just a stone. "And you were _always_ good enough, so if you'd stopped being _daft_ like all the other _men_, you'd have realized that. As if _I_ had no say in it! _Men_! Did you think you got to fight over me like some prize?"

She was crying again. Gods, why today? Why did today have to be the day for this breakdown?

"You were my first friend, Sev. My best friend. I'll… I'll miss you so much. I already miss you so much." She plopped Harry next to Severus' grave. "We'll both miss you so much. What you did for me… what you did for us. We won't forget, Sev."

She placed Harry's palm on the tombstone and covered his tiny one with her own. She supported Harry's gentle bottom with her other hand, so the boy wouldn't fall over. Taking out the rose, she charmed her flower into the stonework, so it would stay embedded next to his name forever.

"Dada."

Harry's first word. Two months early, according to the baby books. She contemplated correcting him and found she couldn't. The tears were on the brink once more.

"Good-bye, old friend. May you find peace at last."

She was sobbing in full force as she descended down the hill, and Harry had taken up on her cue and was crying as well, but when she met the others at the bottom of the hill, James simply took Harry from her arms and let her cry herself out.

Rather than flooing back, Sirius had gotten them a Ministry car. James surprised her once more.

"You should contact Petunia."

Lilly blinked. "You hate Petunia."

"I've done enough apologizing to the dead for a lifetime. It's time we make peace with friends and family while they're still with us. Call Petunia; she's family, after all."

She eyed her husband warily. The tone was mild, but his face had a grim hardness to it she hadn't seen in a long time. Not for the first time, Lilly found herself wondering about what James had said to Sev. But he was right. It was time to end stupid feuds and silly fights. Who knew? Tomorrow may be too late. That night, Lilly wrote her sister a letter for the first time in years.

Carefully, Lilly stuck a single stamp onto the top left corner and licked the envelop sealed. With a clear blue pen, she wrote "4 Privet Drive" in a neat, loopy handwriting.

_Tuney,_

_I miss you. I'm sorry I missed the wedding and everything else. You don't have to say yes, but I would really like for us to become close once more. James and I would love to visit you and Vernon, and I'm sure the kids can all play. I've recently realized that waiting until someone is gone to apologize is a rather silly way to live. You are my sister, and I will always love you. Please, Tuney. I miss you._

_Love always,_

_Lilly_

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I was quite happy with how this chapter turned out. I think I managed to drop some fairly important hints / promises without being super duper obvious or vague. Anyways, until next time.


	14. Chapter 13: The Evans Choir

Part 3 of the day I upload 4 chapters.

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**Chapter Thirteen: The Evans Choir**

_Lilly,_

_Vernon and I would be thrilled to have you, James, and the boys over for dinner. I think Saturday lunch, one o' clock works best._

_Affly,_

_Petunia_

Even through the paper, Lilly could feel the hesitation in her sister's words. She wasn't happy, and she certainly wasn't "thrilled", whatever the letter said. Lilly's nose crinkled at the curt request. Who was _she_ to demand a time and place? Still, Petunia had swallowed her pride and reestablished the connection. Lilly owed her sister the benefit of the doubt.

"Uh oh. I know that look." James shrugged on his cloak. "Petunia didn't accept?"

She crisply folded the letter into her pocket. "We'll be having dinner day after tomorrow at their house. Six o' clock." She forced the neutrality into her voice. Just a normal dinner. Nothing out of the ordinary.

James continued to stare at her through rounded spectacles.

"What?" She snapped.

Her oaf of a husband simply shrugged and muttered "If you say so," before ducking out of the room.

Honestly! "If _I_ say so? This was _your_ idea! Oh no you don't, James Potter you come back here – "

But it was futile. With a poof, James flooed away to the Ministry. Nathan began cooing. "Honestly, Nathan," she vexed her frustrations. "You and I are the only sane people in this house!" She knew what was happening. Her sister was driving her mad. As usual. She humphed and threw her nose into the air, crossing her arms with a queenly dignity. Oh no, not this time. She would be as cool as a cucumber.

Harry began crying again, clutching his head.

Lilly sighed and went to fetch the numbing salve. Albus has said there would be after effects of the transition. The ritual had never been done on one so young, and as such there were few documentations about the effects. He _had_ warned about the constant headaches, though. And indeed, for days Harry seemed to be unable to sleep properly. For the first week, the poor boy needed the salve almost constantly.

Opening the lid, she gently massaged his temples with a single wet finger. As she massaged the salve onto his scalp, she crooned at her eldest son to ease the crying. "Hush, Harry. Hush. It'll be okay. It'll all be okay, hush now."

Once Harry quieted, she cast a simple illusion to keep the boys occupied. Much like a movie, it went through several exciting scenes from one of her own childhood favorites: _The Adventures of Tintin_. _What James doesn't know, can't hurt him_. James had staunchly insisted on a strong wizard upbringing, and while she had ended up agreeing, what James didn't know certainly couldn't hurt him. Besides, she'd be damned if her children grew up not knowing Tintin.

Finally, she sagged into the chair. Sirius and James had finally returned to their work as Aurors, though from what James was saying Sirius was mostly drunk and flirting with the boundaries of acceptability. And while Remus was disqualified due to his lycanthropy, the level-headed marauder secured a rather valuable position assisting his father in hunting down dark creatures. His own expertise on werewolves seemed benefit the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Remus would, of course, take off several days every full moon, but with the backing of his father, that hadn't been an issue.

Lyall Lupin had been the mastermind to discover weaknesses of numerous dark creatures during the war – inferi included. He had been directly responsible for coming up with strategies to deal with dementors and the other spirituous apparitions Voldemort used on a daily basis.

And with Kreacher now taking care of the Black mansion full-time, the house had finally become empty. Leaving Lilly with –

Nathan began crying.

"Dada!" Harry repeated his new favorite word.

"No, Harry. That's a spoon."

"Dada!"

"Spoooon. Spooon."

Harry blinked. "Dada!"

_This is what I've been reduced to. Merlin I miss talking to adults_. It was her own decision, of course. She wasn't going to work as an Auror when her children weren't well. And after everything James had told her about the way the Ministry worked and how it treated its Aurors, she wasn't very sure she even wanted to be an Auror anymore. Harry's periodic aches were always on her mind, and his daily visits to the Healers didn't change that. And even when that wasn't there, there was that _scar_ on Nathan's forehead. Nathan never showed any abnormal signs, but Lilly didn't trust it. No, she wouldn't let her children out of her sight until they were well.

And they certainly didn't need the money. James' parents, Godric bless their soul, had left their son a wonderful nest egg. So what was this itching she had? She stared at the letter from Zonko's for a fourth time. Dumbledore, it seemed had recommended her specifically as "one of the most exceptional charms students in the last three decades." She sighed. It had meant a great deal to her. But a joke shop? Somehow, she had always imagined herself in a nobler walk of life.

And now, every store and business in the greater London area wanted her.

"Quite the catch, you've become."

She smiled, turning around. Remus was eyeing the pile of letters. "Remus. How are you?"

He smiled widely for the first time in weeks. "I start Monday. I'm nervous. Excited."

She showered him with smiles. "You'll be fantastic. They're lucky to have you."

He chuckled and shrugged his tattered robes. "Yes, well. We'll see. Father's the one they really wanted to keep happy. The way they look at it – if hiring Lyall's son is what it takes to keep him happy, then they'll do it."

"Then you'll prove yourself in your own right. You'll show them that Remus Lupin is far more valuable than Lyall will ever be."

He smiled. "You're kind to say so. Still, it'll be nice to be so close to Father after so long. I think he's missed company, ever since Mother's death."

"It must be difficult for him to live in an empty house."

Remus nodded. "Yes. I'm thinking I'll move in with him. Keep an eye on him, you know. He needs help these days." He threw her a cautious glance. "And how are you handling this empty house?"

She sighed. "It _has_ been tough." Sensing the oncoming bout of bawls, she quickly picked up Nathan and began rocking. "I miss having and adult to talk to. But I can't leave them, not in this state. At least not for a couple months until they're better."

Remus took Harry in his own arms and tickled the boy's nose. Harry giggled and gummed Remus' finger. "Not going to be an Auror?"

She wilted. "I'm afraid not. Please don't tell James?" She pleaded. "He's not ready. I think he has this fantasy where we'll both be Aurors or something, but that's really he and Sirius. Not me."

Remus nodded approvingly. "I quite understand. Have you thought about starting your own company?" He ventured.

She blinked. "My _own_ company?" It seemed so… well, Muggle.

"Judging by that stack of letters, you've got loads of offers, and yet no real opportunities. Why not make your own?" Remus gave an embarrassed shake. "Forgive me, Lilly. That was incredibly forward of me."

"No! No, not at all. Remus, we've been friends _far_ too long for you to say things like that."

"You're right, of course. Forgive me."

"And no more apologizing!"

"Forgi – I – yes. Well, sorry."

Her furious stares met apologetic eyes.

Even after Remus had left, his suggestions was whirling around in her mind. Start her _own_ company. It was certainly appealing. She could throw herself into something that didn't involve the most basic motor functions and nonsensical babbling. She could delve into the deeper aspects of charmswork that had always intrigued her while keeping an eye on the twins. And she would be in complete control.

But what would she do? She knew nothing about financing a company. What if they lost money and she didn't even know? Vaguely, she tried to recall the incredibly long ledgers her father had kept. It seemed quite complicated. And at the end of the day, starting a business seemed rather different from practicing fancy spellswork.

"Lills? Are you listening?"

"What? Oh, James. How was your day?"

"Just more Ministry nonsense. Darling." He squeezed her shoulders. "Are you alright?"

"I was just. Remus had _apologized_! Well, a business _is_ rather different. And those ledgers, who even wants to deal with those?" She had just realized none of that made any sense at all. She slumped over her husband's arms. "I think babbling and cooing to Harry and Nathan all day has made me forget how to have an intelligent conversation."

James seemed to beam. "Is that witch for 'You miss me'?"

She pecked her husband's cheek.

"Dada!"

James discarded her in an instant, whipping around and parading Harry in his arms.

"Dada!"

His face beaming with pride, James swung the boy around and showered kisses. "That's my boy! His first word, Lills! His _first_ word! And bloody quick, too! They're not supposed to speak for another two months!"

"Dada!"

"Look at him go! He knows his old man, all right."

Lilly faltered. James was so happy. Would a single white lie really matter? What importance did a single word hold, anyways. She hugged her husband. "It's a miracle," she smiled.

"Dada!" Harry finally managed to grab his favorite spoon and started waving it around.

James examined his eldest with a full arm's length between them. "Erm, what now?"

Harry patted James' wrist with the spoon. "Dada."

"He thinks everything is a 'dada', doesn't he?"

Lilly giggled. "Even worse, I'm afraid." She hugged her husband from behind. "He thinks that spoon is Dada. Been going on about it all day."

"All day! I missed his first words all day?"

She chortled and kissed his back. "Don't worry. You'll have the chance to hear his favorite word all night. He's all _yours_." She retreated to the peace and quiet of the bathroom, but it was short-lived. Evidently, her brilliant husband who managed to become a full-fledged animagus at fifteen years-old couldn't quite handle two nearly four month-old children.

After feeding and burping them herself, she tucked them into their cribs. A single kiss on each of their foreheads and a soft whispered good-night later, the house resumed its peace. She and James were on the sofa in front of the fireplace, cuddling for the first time in weeks.

"We need to hire a babysitter," James yawned. "Those rascals are too exhausting."

"Yes, well. Being mistaken for a spoon will do that to you."

"Oh you think that's funny, do you?"

"Well it's not just – aaah! James, stop! _James_!" But the tickles didn't cease. She gasped for air and fought her way to freedom, but it was too late. Her hair was a mess and the blankets had been tossed halfway across the room. She glared at him through her messy tangles.

And suddenly, a mischievous smile crawled its way onto his face. "Let's do something _dirty_ tonight."

She raised a brow. "Like what?"

He eyed the blanket hungrily. "Let's go to bed. _Without_ putting that blanket into the hamper." His devious teeth shined.

She gasped. "So _evil_." She kissed him. "I love it."

He picked her up and carted her off to the bedroom, where the new parents promptly fell asleep.

_Children_, Lilly realized as she awoke to a groggy household the next morning, _are the single greatest form of sex-prevention_. The sun had barely come out, but Harry would, without a doubt, start crying within ten minutes. Groaning, she cracked her neck and rolled out of her mattress. Last night was an incredibly rare opportunity. She and James sent the kids to bed early and had an extra _hour_.

_An hour thoroughly well-used_. She stared longingly at her pillow. There was a time, she knew, where she didn't love sleeping so much. But she couldn't quite remember when that time was. There was a chill indifference to realizing that they had become the boring couple that preferred napping to passionate lovemaking, but anyone who thought they could manage twins better was welcome to try.

The simple fact was that parenting was unsexy. And her teenage dreams could shove it.

James' snores rumbled through the room. _That man can sleep through anything_. "James, wake up. James you promised it was your turn to take care of Harry and Nathan." Nothing. Frowning, she fetched her wand from the night table. With a quick flick, James was on his feet, soaking head to toe. The bed, of course, was rather dry. Lilly batted the most innocent eyelashes. "The children are calling, dear."

James-the-troll grumbled and trudged away.

They were going to her sister's soon. And she had to get mentally prepared. As they zipped around, getting Nathan and Harry ready, Lilly inundated James with all her sister's rules. "Make sure you don't even _mention_ magic. She gets really nervous. And better not say you work for the Ministry. Just say you're a police officer. And remember that – "

And through it all, James calmly assured her that he had everything under control. "Yes, Dear. I understand, Lilly. Of course, I would never."

But she couldn't help but feel that this whole meal was simply a disaster in waiting. She hadn't been this nervous since she introduced James to her parents. The worst part was that time seemed to fly faster and faster the closer they got. She had no time at all to mentally stabilize herself; as the car turned onto Privet Drive, Lilly felt her mouth go dry. Cursing her nerves, Lilly smoothed her skirt and put on her best smile. With a deep breath, she rang the bell.

The door opened, revealing a woman who'd lost far too much weight and gained too much neck.

She wanted to hug her sister. She wanted to curl up together and gossip like little girls. But Petunia's eyes convinced her otherwise. "Good afternoon, Petunia." Lilly forced herself to maintain calm as her eyes grasped the largest man they'd ever seen. The man was _enormous_, and there was no hint of any neck. "A-And Vernon!" She tried for enthusiasm, but she had a sneaking suspicion that it came out as a squeak. "How are you?" she held out her hand.

After a painful pause, he took her hand.

"And you must be Lilly. Pleasure to meet you at last." Vernon turned to James. "And you must be James."

Her husband seemed all stone. "Pleasure," James extended the firmest handshake Lilly had ever seen.

Pleasure to _meet her_? What were these two going on about? _Something_ was going on between the two men, but she couldn't be sure what. Before she had a chance to study them further, Petunia relented and led them to the living room.

"So, James. What do you do for a living?" Petunia's mountain of a husband seemed to practice James' name, staring it down like he would a crouching lion.

James, for his part, seemed to return the feelings fully. "I'm a police officer, Vernon. I deal with the worst of the lot – serial killers, and the lot."

"A gruesome line of work, James. Keeping the community safe, are you?"

"I like to think so, Vernon. It's dangerous but rewarding. Besides, Vernon, someone has to do it."

Lilly didn't bother to hide her shock. She ogled at her husband, only to turn and gape at Vernon Dursley. What were these two _doing_? They had met each other at least three times before, and it was no secret that they hated each other. It was amidst the open stares that she saw her own sister's shocked face, and the blood drained from both Evans sisters. They both immediately averted their gaze.

"And what about you, Vernon? What is it you do?"

"I deal in construction, James. I operate a drill company. We're the most rapidly growing company in all of England, James. I expect we'll be number one within the year."

"So business is good, eh Vernon? That's wonderful news, Vernon."

She couldn't take it anymore. What in devil's blazes was going on? She searched for help from Petunia, and to her shock, her older sister's eyes were desperately begging _her_. Suddenly, Lilly stood. "Excuse me, I'm going to help Petunia with lunch."

"Ah – Yes. Do excuse us." Petunia quickly caught on, and the two sisters nearly ran from their husbands' madness. "Is this _your_ idea?" Petunia hissed when they were finally out of earshot.

"_Mine_? Your husband is the one who started this whole idiocy! 'And you must be Lilly. Pleasure to meet you at last.' What does that _mean_, Tuney? As if he hasn't even _met_ me?"

Petunia stiffened. "You've obviously _done_ something to him."

Lilly's eyes widened as the implication sunk in. "You think." Her hands were trembling. "You think we'd _do_ something to him?" Petunia, for her part, betrayed no fear. Indeed, Lilly thought it was a miracle she could even see with her nose so high. "Your _oaf_ of a husband doesn't need anyone doing _anything_ because he's already – "

A loud rip and crinkle from the living room.

Both sisters peeped out to see James and Vernon opening a bag of crisps.

"No junk food before the meal!"

The shout came in unison, and for a moment they glared at each other. Then, Petunia, as if showing Lilly how a _true_ lady did it, calmly took the bag from James, folded it up, and placed it on the coffee table. Lilly ground her teeth as Petunia gave her a smug smile.

"'A lady does not raise her voice.' You'd do well to remember Mother's etiquette lessons, Sister."

Lilly forcibly relaxed her fists. How? How after so many years could Petunia make her so angry in just a few short sentences? This… This incredibly irritating _woman_. "You were shouting just as loud as I," Lilly accused.

The daggers in Lilly's eyes had no effect. Petunia chortled as she removed the roast from the oven. "A little young to be playing tit for tat, aren't we? But I supposed you always did compare yourself to me."

Nothing had changed. _Nothing_. "I think you have quite the handle on the meal. _I'm_ going back to the living room."

Petunia snorted. "I'm not leaving you and your _husband_ alone with Vernon."

And the two marched back, nearly arm in arm.

"Everything alright in there?" James ventured.

"Oh, _splendid_." Petunia smiled.

"Yes, just _fantastic_." Lilly spat.

Somehow, Petunia managed to make even her brows scold Lilly. _A lady does not spit_. The quotation rang in Lilly's head, and her molars met once more.

"James and I were just discussing our plans for the children. You can never start planning to early, can you James?"

"I agree entirely, Vernon. Did you know, Lills – Vernon just told me the most _fascinating_ tidbit. It seems that babies start learning as soon as they're born. Simply by talking to the children, even when you're just feeding them or just playing with them, you help them learn. Isn't that right, Vernon?"

"Absolutely, James. I tell you, I was just as surprised when I found this out. Doctors say that by speaking to the children, you can further their mental development by weeks."

The two took turns telling the wives about child development, and if Lilly's jaw went any lower, it would have hit the ground. She wanted to scream that perhaps James should have married _Vernon_ if he felt they were such a fit. She wanted to pull out her husband's hair and feed it to the man. She wanted to –

And then, it was crystal clear. She turned to Petunia, and her sister seemed to be on the same page.

"We have to take care of something." They marched off in unison, for once not caring that they were a single voice.

Once they reached the kitchen, the Evans sisters seemed to eye each other suspiciously. Twice in unison might be coincidence, but three times?

"They're in on it together." Their voices harmonized.

"Damn," Lilly cursed.

"Lilly!" Petunia gasped.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh come off it, Tuney." The frustration was piling. "Those maddening men are in it _together_! Don't you see what this _means_?"

Petunia gathered herself. "Of course I do. I realized it before _you_ did."

Lilly's eyes narrowed. The _gall_! "I seem to recall you accusing me of _doing things_ to your husband."

"Oh don't be daft; my own sister jinxing my husband. Indeed!" She scoffed, but as soon as the words were out, Petunia clasped two palms over her mouth.

Lilly's own eyes grew to be as wide as saucers. And before she knew it, she was wrapping her sister in a fierce hug, and tears were streaming down her face, damping Petunia's dress. "Petunia, I… Tuney, I… I _missed_ you so much!" She choked out between quiet sobs.

Protective, elder sibling instincts tore apart the cobwebs and leapt out of long-buried memories. Petunia cradled her vulnerable sister in a familiar embrace as they whispered long-missed condolences and apologies. Finally, Petunia cupped her sibling's face and wiped Lilly's tears.

"I _am_ sorry things happened the way they did. I should have given Vernon a second chance." Lilly moped.

"Oh shush. You know _men_ are nothing but trouble. I'll have no more nonsense from you; you're too smart for that." Petunia scolded, but her heart wasn't in it. And suddenly, she softened. "I am sorry I didn't make you a bridesmaid. You know you were _always_ my maid of honor. I love you, Lilly."

Another, softer round of tears.

"You remember the promise we made?" Petunia patiently guided a stray curl out of Lilly's face and around her ear.

Lilly nodded. "Every week."

Petunia gave an approving nod. "That's right. We will meet _every_ week from now on. And we certainly won't let _men_ get in the way of our sisterhood, will we?"

Lilly shook her head. "No," she answered dutifully.

Petunia gave her a familiar tap on the nose. "No, we won't."

And suddenly, Lilly was wrapped in a hug once more.

"I'm sorry, Lilly." The whispers came slowly. "I've been prideful, resentful, and a horrible sister. I wasn't even there for your wedding. And when I heard that this… _Voldemort_ attacked you."

Lilly felt her sister shiver uncontrollably.

"Can you ever forgive me?"

Lilly couldn't suppress a tearful giggle. She nodded. "I'm just glad to have my sister back."

A strange, hushed, scraping sound seemed to roll into the kitchen.

Lilly tried to ignore it before realizing what it was.

"They're _laughing_ at us!" They intoned. Fists on hips, they marched out arm in arm to confront the two most serious men in the world engaged in discussing a very serious no-laughing-matter subject.

"So, think this is funny, do you?" Lilly glared at James, who did his best to find sanctuary in his new best friend Vernon.

"Well? The lady asked a question, _Vernon_!" Petunia nearly barked.

Vernon did his best to eliminate what little neck he did have and sink inside himself like a turtle. Wide eyed, he stared back at James while doing his best at achieving invisibility, and the husbands collectively wondered when they could afford to _not_ look at one another. The Evans choir was in full force.

_There!_ Lilly saw it, and she doubted the watchful eyes of her sister missed it either. Her marauder of a husband had _winked_ at the other man. Ooh, these men. Lilly's voice was sleek ice. "Petunia, let's show these men that we, too, have _quite_ a sense of humor."

Petunia maintained her soul-boring gaze on Vernon, but her voice, too, suddenly dropped a hundred degrees. "Ah, yes. _Humor_."

James froze. Any remaining blood seemed to drain from the husbands' faces.

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This chapter was quite difficult for me. I'm not very good at humor, and this is my first attempt at it. I've tried to put character-driven humor rather than plot-driven, but I'm not sure how it turned out for another person (don't have a Beta yadda yadda). If anyone has any tips on writing humor, much appreciated; it truly is something I'm probably weakest on.


	15. Chapter 14: An Old Dog

Part 4 of the night I upload 4 chapters.

Slight warning: This chapter has some adult-ish themes. Can't say you haven't been warned, given the rating of this story.

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**Chapter Fourteen: An Old Dog**

"You know you don't have to find a job. You know that, right?" James said suddenly as they were going on their daily walk.

"You sure? I know you wanted me to be an auror."

James shook his head. "Only if that's what you wanted. Lilly, I'll always support you in anything you want to do. You're my _wife_."

She smiled. "I am rather relieved, to tell you the truth. An auror just isn't me. I don't even like dueling. All that chaos and constant action. No, I must prefer the calm logical puzzles of complex enchantments and wards."

James fought the urge to giggle. She certainly seemed rather pleased with herself. All high and mighty; oh yes, Lilly was back in true form. She often thought James didn't see anything, but he knew more than he let on. Lilly was, by all rights, completely depressed. And for some reason, her cunt of a sister was the only one who could lift her spirits. So James did what he had to do. Even if that included cooperating with the oaf of a man called Vernon Dursley. And it had paid off.

After the scolds and screams, his wife had a grin plastered on her face the entirety of ride back home and… he leaned over to check. Yup, even now, that smile glued her cheeks several degrees wider than their normal resting position. And James knew he had done the right thing.

"Besides," she continued. "I don't feel comfortable leaving Harry out of my sights. I thought after everything we went through Voldemort's cursed scar would be the trouble, but Nathan seems perfectly fine. It's Harry I'm worried about. He doesn't sleep well, James. I think he has nightmares. I'm going to see the Healers about some headache salve."

"I didn't realize it had gotten so bad."

She gave him a sad smile. "You're not around enough."

Perhaps it was true. Maybe –

"Oh, don't look like that." She kissed him on the cheek. "I know you do your best. Come on, time for bed."

In what seemed like moments later, James wiggled into his sheets and got comfortable. Merlin, how he loved bedtime.

"I still can't _believe_ you, James Potter!" Lilly's exclamations echoed from the bathroom. "Working with _Vernon Dursley_."

"Shows you for calling me an old dog, doesn't it?" He quipped back. Can't learn new tricks indeed. Oh, it grated his nerves and set his stomach on edge, but James Potter had done it.

Lilly practically danced to the bed, humming herself into the sheets.

"I did good?" James bit his wife's left earlobe.

She wriggled further into the sheets and tickled his shins with her icy cold feet. "You did good," she purred into a kiss.

"You have no idea how much it killed me to work with that man." James dropped his head onto the pillow.

She rolled on top and kissed his cheek. "I know, I'm sorry." Another peck on the corner of his lips.

"And their _son_, don't even get me started on that Dudley."

She slipped off his shirt in a smooth motion and kissed his chest.

James groaned as she kissed into his sore stomach. Lilly may or may not have gotten a tad bit violent. Evidently, laughing at your wife might not be the best strategy for making her feel better. "And did you _have_ to hit me so hard?"

She yanked off his belt and massaged his sore abdominals. Leaning over, she kissed him forcefully. Before James could blink, his pants were off, and her kisses were rapidly descending. "I think you deserve a _big_ treat," she mumbled into his bellybutton before placing a kiss just underneath.

"I do?" He raised his head enough to see her cup his crotch gently.

His hands raked through her hair, but she needed no guidance. Today, Lilly was eager. Merlin, James loved doing good.

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Wasn't too bad, was it? Don't worry, it'll get much dirtier before this story is over ;)

I tend to avoid sex scenes that don't also add to the plot or character development. The point of this scene was that, despite everything, they are still intimate as a couple and trying to make that marriage work. Didn't seem quite necessary to go into the details to get that across.

Worry not; there _will_ be sex scenes for which it will be necessary, this just wasn't one of them.


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